


Reborn, Relive, Repeat

by Aria_Cinabun



Series: RRR Trilogy [1]
Category: Minecraft - Fandom, Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Avariel, Best Friends For Life, Blood, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family Dynamics, Flashbacks, Found Family, Gen, HAHA never, Hurt/Comfort, I am not good at writing fluff okay, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Lots of death <3, More tags will be added when needed, Past Child Abuse, Phoenixes, Platonic Soulmates, Sleepy Bois Incorperated, The major character death is...necessary, Wings, Yeah it's only platonic you fuckers quit shipping Tommy and Tubbo, phoenix au, poor Tommy keeps getting kidnapped in my fics, when will i stop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-15
Updated: 2020-10-28
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:21:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 26,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27016450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Cinabun/pseuds/Aria_Cinabun
Summary: There once was an empire built on prosperity and promises of a better future.There once was a young prince, wingless yet, who stared out the window of his room and willed the world to go in his favor.There once were two brothers and a father who despaired in the death of their youngest.There once was a young boy, and in his bloodline lay that of the Phoenix - and when he gained his wings, they burned with the same fire that shriveled in his heart as he lay in his cell, listening to the captors who lay on the other side of the thin bars.There once was a grown-up prince, a kid no longer, whose fire was long burnt out, whose hope had long vanished with that of his kin. Who sat in his cell and listened to Death’s calls as his feathers turned to dust around him.There once was another boy, another prince - another half.There once was a tattoo of a bee that shone golden on his wrist and dreams of laughter that rung in his ears of people long forgotten.This is his tale.
Relationships: Dave | Technoblade & TommyInnit, Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, TommyInnit & Phil Watson (Video Blogging RPF), Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Series: RRR Trilogy [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124765
Comments: 218
Kudos: 3044
Collections: Best of Hurt/Comfort, Completed fics I read, Completed stories I've read, Fics for when I finally convince my friend to leave wattpad for ao3, Found family to make me feel something, Tommy and Tubbo Friendship Supremacy, rye's lifeblood (alternatively titled: rye's favorites)





	1. Reborn

**Author's Note:**

> updates will be whenever
> 
> yeah I'm in the middle of a writers block dhmu

**_Reborn._ **

Wilbur knelt down and picked up a piece of shattered glass with shaking hands, the sharp edge cutting into his skin, the scarlet blood welling up and smearing all over the broken shard and dripping onto the floor. His hands shook slightly, the glass cutting further into his palm and deepening the damage. He barely felt the pain that followed, his mind hazy and so full of anger that he barely registered the deep cut until someone's hand grabbed his and the glass was wrenched out of his palm.

He looked over to see Phil there, staring at his hand worriedly.

It was going to scar.

He didn't care.

The glass shards all over the floor proved that. The broken window showed that. The fluttering curtains of the early-morning breeze were proof that his world was crashing down. The empty bed of his little brother that he'd tucked in only four hours earlier was proof that his life had shattered as easily as the glass had.

He heard a sharp noise, and looked over to see a pink-haired man snap an arrow in half - an arrow made of black wood splintering in the furious fist of an older brother. The wood shattered in Techno's grip, the splinters embedding itself in his hand much as the glass had in Wilbur's.

His gaze returned to the note that had been nailed to the wall.

**_He will die._**

The feathers of his wings fluffed up in indignation at the note that he had read many of thousands of times.

"They will _burn_ ," Techno spat.

Wilbur couldn't find an answer as he watched the pink-haired man stalk to the edge of the window and dive out, his hawk-like wings spreading as he caught himself from the freefall and flew up towards the rising sun. 

He knew in his heart that it was already too late to save Tommy.

* * *

He had died a hundred times. Perhaps a thousand.

He had lost count.

The first time had been the easiest. It had been the quickest - it had been after they'd forced him to send a letter with ink of _his own blood_ \- oh, how that childish scrawl of handwriting had haunted him; _still_ haunted him - telling his family what was about to happen.

It had been so simple.

He had been eight. He had felt the cold steel slide through his chest and he had felt mind-numbing pain and he had felt the blood seep into his hair, pulling it down to earth like water in the lake when he stepped out.

He had been eight.

He'd felt himself die.

Of course, it hadn't been that easy. It had never been that easy. Not for him - not for who he was, a gene that had apparently run in his family for generations, and one that had been passed down to him.

A phoenix.

Wings like the burning sun, lifeline like the starlight. That's what the stories said. They said that phoenixes were lucky and adept and smart and the greatest protectors of the world.

He hadn't counted himself lucky when he had opened his eyes twelve hours later in a pool of his own blood and some very startled looking Fallen staring at him - right before they killed him again.

And like phoenixes did, he vanished into ash and was reborn again.

And again.

And again.

It was more of a test, now. Phoenix feathers were rare and could be used in alchemy and potions. He had patches missing when he survived long enough for them to be pulled out. His entire body ached when they left him alive.

Death was welcoming. It was like the warm arms of a friend; it was comforting and he wanted to stay there forever, beyond the veil of the living.

He was always called back. Always to that white light, to that cold metal table and to the tools that were used to take his life - to take parts of him, _him_ , because he was only an animal to them, a _thing_ that could be taken apart for pieces if one was careful enough, something to be experimented on and tortured.

He was sixteen, now. He added a white line to his cell wall every time he awoke there after his death. Sometimes it was twice a week. Sometimes every day. It depended on the mood of his captors.

He was a phoenix. He was supposed to be the most powerful type of avariel out there. He was supposed to be a great warrior.

All he was - was forgotten.

Lost in the depths of his own mind. It all blended together. The freezing cold of his cell, the blissful warmth of death itself. The endless days, the endless cycles of his life that repeated over and over again.

It was like a fever dream. He just _existed_ , and then when he thought about it, he wondered why he was here, and why he was looking through his eyes into his miserable life. But he didn't dwell on that long, and usually slid back into the mindless loop pretty often.

His wings, once fiery red and yellow, were dark and soot colored, almost like ash. The Fallen didn't like it much; apparently, ones of brighter colors were better for selling. Tommy didn't really care much, but they were trying to get the color of his phoenix wings to change, and it wasn't changing - if anything, they were getting closer to black.

It didn't hurt anymore. Well, it did - but he didn't remember it. He could barely remember the faces of his brothers and father. He couldn't remember his home only eight years earlier. Maybe it was some self-defense mechanism.

You couldn't miss what you didn't remember, right?

* * *

It was well into his sixteenth year of age that another phoenix joined him in the depths of the caves that made of the prison of the Fallen.

Tommy saw the boy, young like himself, but with bright red wings that faded to yellow at the tips, get dumped into the cell opposite him. He scrambled up, his shoulderblades aching from just having lost about a dozen feathers, but he ignored the small twinge of pain and watched as the Fallen paid him no attention and left.

The boy had a nasty bruise on his face, and a bit of blood matted his brown hair, and one of his wings was curled under his prone body in a way that Tommy was sure was unconformable, but other than that, he breathed fine. Which meant they hadn't killed him yet.

Tommy ran a hand through his blonde hair and sat down on the wooden cot that he'd had his entire time here.

He couldn't do anything about this. The boy would become much like him, he was sure.

He lay back and closed his eyes, drifting off into sleep.

His dreams were usually clouded and troubled. Sometimes he saw things that he knew had happened recently - like a few months ago, his brother and someone in a white mask had fought in an arena, and Techno had won. Sometimes he saw his father standing over a small stone below a tree. He saw Wilbur there as well, sitting with his guitar and playing songs softly in the shadows of the courtyard. Techno was there as well, with his history books and his sword.

He'd known innately that it was his grave they were visiting. He didn't blame them - they'd been sent a letter in blood, written _by_ him, telling of _his_ death. Why wouldn't they assume that he was gone?

This time, however, he appeared in a grassy field surrounded by trees, one he didn't recognize. The buzzing of bees from the many dozen hives he could see that were dripping full of honey was nestled into the background of his mind.

The boy from outside the dream was there, sitting cross-legged and staring at something on his lap, his red and yellow wings curled around him protectively.

Tommy took one step in the grass and stepped on a stick, the loud _crack_ echoing over the silence of the clearing.

The boy looked up, surprise flickering on his face before it brightened, and he scrambled to his feet. Tommy noticed wryly that he was short, as short as Tommy had been as a kid. He himself was taller now, taller than Phil and _maybe_ Techno - though surely not Wilbur.

"Hi," the boy said, a small bit of caution in his eyes. "I'm Tubbo! It's nice to meet you. You know, my brother said this would happen eventually."

"What?" Tommy said, glad that in this place, his vocal cords weren't wrecked and ruined and that there was no pain in his body. He was just confused at this point.

"You're in our shared dreamscape," the boy said happily, his wings ruffling. Tommy was slightly envious of their bright colors. "We're soulmates, see?" He held up his hand, and Tommy squinted until he saw the small gold outline of what appeared to be a music disc. He glanced down at his wrist, at the small little bee that surely hadn't been there earlier.

"What the fuck does that mean?" he asked.

"It means we're gonna be best friends forever," Tubbo said happily.

"Aren't you, like, locked up?"

Tubbo frowned. "How do you know?"

"You're in the cell across from me."

For once, Tubbo looked dejected. "Oh. You're here too?"

"Yeah."

"Well, don't worry, my family - "

"Won't find you," he snapped. "They never found me."

"Dream will," Tubbo said.

He paused. "Dream's _your_ brother? _You're_ the prince of the Dream SMP?"

"Yes," Tubbo said. He didn't sound very proud of it.

"They're still not gonna find you," Tommy whispered. "My family never did. The Antarctic Empire never did."

Confusion reigned first. And then recognition flashed in Tubbo's eyes.

Everything went black.

* * *

Nothing had happened that day. Tommy had stayed in his cell, and Tubbo in his, and though the boy tried to call to Tommy, he never responded - he wasn't sure if he was unwilling to or unable to. Tubbo - his soulmate?   
  
The bee on his wrist, golden and gleaming, never wavered. He stared at it for hours, and sometimes when he looked over at the brown-haired boy, he saw Tubbo staring at the _soulmate bond_ on his wrist as well.

That night, however, he went back to the glade that he'd appeared in the first night that Tubbo had been there. He couldn't evade the boy then.

"Tommy?"

It was nighttime in the clearing, in their shared space. Tommy rolled onto his stomach from where he'd been staring at the stars - he'd been here before Tubbo. This was the first time he'd seen the twinkling lights of the night sky in so long, and it wasn't even real - but the grass under his arms that pricked his skin begged to differ, and the cool night breeze that ran through his ears spoke differently. 

"What happened to your wings, Tommy?"

He shrugged. "I dunno. They changed colors as I grew up. Maybe that's just a phoenix thing."

"It's not," Tubbo said seriously. "It's a sign that you're unhappy or that you've died a lot." Tommy stiffened, and there was a bit of silence as he wrapped his soot-colored wings further around himself, hiding the sky. "Tommy," Tubbo said, his voice slightly muffled. "How many times have you died?"

"How many marks are on the wall?" he asked dryly, answering the question with another question.

A small gasp, and Tommy moved his wings with a sort of inexperience - his cell was never big enough to move them fully, and he was glad he couldn't feel the pain his body was experiencing in this safe place in his head. He saw Tubbo's feet about two feet from his head, and he saw the glistening brown eyes of the boy as he stared at Tommy in horror.

"There's like..." Tubbo trailed off.

"Over a thousand, I know," Tommy said, rolling his shoulders as he moved his wings with a freedom that he hadn't known he had. It felt weird to spread them wide and unfettered without hitting any walls.

"That's..." Tubbo said. "You've been here for eight years, right?"

"Yep."

"I've never died," Tubbo said slowly, sitting down next to Tommy. He could see a soft glow about the red and yellow and orange feathers of the boy's wings, almost like fireflies, maybe - if he remembered the glowing bugs properly. "What's it like?"

"Peaceful," Tommy said truthfully. "I mean, this place is better." He patted the soft green grass meaningfully." But it's more peaceful than the cell." Tommy sighed regretfully. "Sometimes I wish I could stay there forever."

"You shouldn't say that," Tubbo said sharply, and Tommy looked over to see the boy crying.

"Why not?"

"That's horrible!" Tubbo cried out, his feathers bristling. Tommy was entranced by the soft glow that they gave out, much unlike the dull darkness of his own. 

"Are you _crying_?"

"Clearly, you can't," the boy retorted. "So I'm doing it for you."

* * *

Tubbo died the next day.

Tommy did too, but he was used to it.

So back in the glade - it was sunrise - he found Tubbo crying, surrounded by an area of charred grass, his wings shaking.

"Are you okay?" Tommy asked, sitting down next to the boy awkwardly.

Tubbo's shoulders shook, and he looked up at Tommy with red-rimmed and bloodshot eyes. "Tommy, I died," he hiccuped.

"I know."

"Doesn't that mean I'm _not_ okay?"

"Aren't you a phoenix?" Tommy asked hesitantly. "Like me?"

"That doesn't mean dying is _okay_ ," Tubbo said. "I know what happened to you! You're going to perma-die!"

"What?" Tommy said, taken aback.

Tubbo nodded. "Your wings have lost their fire. I'm surprised it hasn't happened sooner. I remember hearing about this when my wings first showed. If a phoenix dies too much then they can die forever because they don't have time to rekindle their fire." He paused. "You don't seem too horrified."

"I'm not."

"But you - "

"I've already lived a thousand lives, Tubbo," Tommy sighed. "We're never going to get out of here."

"No, we _are_!"

Tommy snorted, bringing his knees closer to his chest. "I've met Dream once." _In a vision._ "He's a lot like Techno, in a crazy protective older sibling sort of way. If my family can't find us, then yours can't either."

"Then we've just got to get out ourselves," Tubbo said stubbornly.

"I've tried," he said numbly. "It never worked."

"When was the last time you tried?"

He hesitated. "...six years ago."

"Exactly," Tubbo said. "That was a while ago. You're more powerful now, older - "

"More...powerful?"

Tubbo swung his head to look at Tommy. "Have you ever used your phoenix powers?" Tommy shook his head slowly. "Do you even know how to fly?"

He didn't answer.

* * *

In total, Tubbo died seven times before they managed to escape, nearly a month and a half later. Each time, he was left in a mess that Tommy had to scramble to fix.

He enjoyed it, even if he called Tubbo clingy and weird. It made him feel more grounded. And, even though he acted dejected about it those nights in the glade, he found that Tubbo became his friend - his only friend. He enjoyed feeling that he was somehow useful, that he wasn't forgotten.

Tubbo taught him about phoenixes, something he should have learned but never got the opportunity to. He told him about the fire magic that all phoenix avariels had inside them, and showed him the flame that he was able to conjure in the glade, though, in real life, both of them had blocks on their magic. Tommy was never able to conjure real flame, only a wisp of smoke, but he did learn that he had a scrying ability when he dreamt, though he could never control it.

He found that the feathers of his wings were slowly turning to ash. Tubbo showed him, one day, when he put a hand on one of his feathers and pulled it away to reveal soot marks on his hand. Tommy was both horrified and entranced by the thing that was happening to him. Tubbo was just horrified, though.

Tommy marked off twelve more scrapes in the wall before they escaped.

They managed to get away by pure chance, and pure chance only. Completely by accident. Someone forgot to put the magic stoppers on Tubbo - they'd done that to Tommy too but he had no idea how to use his magic and they'd gotten lax with the usage of them - and Tubbo went absolutely ballistic and destroyed the bars of his cell, turning them to a fine ash. Of course, being a phoenix, Tommy wasn't affected much by the heat, and was more horrified than anything - before he gathered himself, grabbed a sword, and started stabbing shit.

Sometimes quite literally. Sure, the last time he had used a sword was eight years ago, and he was malnourished and skinny and bore scars that had stayed despite being reborn - that had scared him - but the metal in his hand were familiar, and whenever he nearly died, Tubbo just turned the Fallen to fire, so it worked out.

But Tommy got to kill the doctor that had tortured him for years. And despite taking a life, it felt good. Maybe that made him evil...he didn't care. And Tubbo removed the blocks on Tommy, ones that kept his wings pinned to his side as well, but it didn't help the magic situation.

They would have flown, but Tommy couldn't fly. And his wings were slowly disintegrating, so even if he had known how to fly, it was an awful idea.

So out of the cave they walked, and Tommy felt sunlight for the first time in many, many years.

It was weird. To hear the birds chirping, to see the leaves on the trees waving. To feel the wind in his feathers, to look upon the blue sky with his eyes and really _see_ it, not in a dreamscape.

To see Tubbo laughing again, even if they weren't home. He'd only known him for a few weeks, but already they were closer than anything. That made sense - soulmates were like that. Tommy had a feeling they would be friends to the very end.

To see the foxes eating the berries from the bushes, and watch as Tubbo spouted facts about the different bees they saw as they walked towards Tommy's home, which was closer, according to Tubbo. Despite heading south, it was the middle of summer, and Tommy felt warm for the first time in years - but externally and internally.

Sometimes he would lie awake at night and watch as the little bee on his wrist glowed softly in the darkness. He didn't sleep all too well; had nightmares often - freezing cold touches made him jump and cower and shake, and certain objects would set off flashbacks that lasted minutes. On the nights that it happened, he curled up next to Tubbo's wings, which were always warm and glowing softly. His own wings were dark and cold, and even his own touch felt cold sometimes, but his friend was always warm, even on the coldest of nights.

They picked berries from bushes and drank from the springwater. Tommy knew that Tubbo was far more uncomfortable with the meager diet at hand than he was, so he usually pushed the found berries towards the smaller boy, who wouldn't touch them until Tommy shouted at him to _fucking eat it or he'd throw it in the river_.

Tubbo ate them.

It was clear the boy wasn't used to hunger. That was okay in Tommy's books. Most people weren't - especially princes, which both of them were.

His hopes rose as he spotted the walls of the Antarctic Empire capital, a place he recognized from his dreams. There were purple and black banners hanging on the walls, celebrating a holiday he didn't recognize.

Tubbo went white. "No fucking way," the boy muttered.

"What?" Tommy asked impatiently, tugging Tubbo's hand towards the gate, which lies right open, trickles of avariel running through it. He felt the small pulse of the soulmate bond from where their wrists are touching and was filled with a bit of relief from the loud white noise of the city.

"Today's the festival," Tubbo panicked.

"What?" he asked again.

Tubbo rubbed his nose. "Endlantis festival."

"It was _found_?"

"Yeah, King Philza - I mean, your dad did."

"Oh," Tommy said.

"My family is gonna be there," Tubbo groaned.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

"I don't know if I'm prepared to face them," Tubbo admitted.

Tommy awkwardly patted Tubbo on the back. "It's gonna be okay, big man. They'll be real excited to see you, promise. They'll be like 'Oh my gosh Tubbo's home, aww how sweet'." He scrunched his nose. "No, actually, that's just weird."

Tubbo laughed at his antics, and then the two boys walked through the gates, blending right into the crowd. Tubbo, whose wings had turned red with black at the tips, blended right in, a visible phoenix no more. Tommy got a few looks - ravens and crows and the Fallen had black wings, but the sword remained firmly at his side, and nobody bothered either of the two boys as they walked down the streets.

Tommy saw the fountains that he and Wilbur used to throw coins in, calling wishes, and he saw the bakery that Niki owned - the girl he was sure Wilbur had fancied. He saw the familiar paved streets - some newer, some worn down. Some of the shops had changed in the eight years, but it was still as lively as ever, purple and black and a bit of green-yellow banners swinging in the wind. Tubbo took one of the free flowers - a violet one - and tucked it behind his ear. Tommy scoffed at it, and then proceeded to glare angrily at everyone who gave Tubbo weird looks about the flower in his hair.

He was tempted to go to the bakery and say hello to Niki, but he really wanted to see his dad and Wilbur and the Blade again.

It was almost easier to forget what had happened when it was bright and sunny and warm and the day was full of people. Except for the times that Tommy felt something brush against his wings and he jumped and he felt Tubbo squeeze his hands before he beheaded the accidental hitter.

It was almost easy to forget what had happened. It was almost easy to clench his hands into fists and forget about the scar that ran from his lower ribcage up to his collarbone and the scar that ran up his left forearm. It was almost easy to forget the ache on his back from standing upright for so long so soon. It was almost easy to ignore the pain in his legs from walking for so long. It was almost easy to brush the blonde hair out of his eyes and forget about the times he had died.

Almost.

He remembered.

He felt Tubbo squeeze his hand, their soulmate bond lighting up at the skin-to-skin contact. Tommy looked over at the shorter boy. "What?"

"Your wings," the boy whispered, and Tommy maneuvered his left wing around to stare at it. He gawked at the dark red feathers that lay on the upper wing coverts instead of the usual soot-colored ones. They weren't as bright as Tubbo's - and Tubbo's were faded, the edges a bloody red instead of the bright scarlet they had been when he had first arrived at the facility.

"They're healing," Tubbo whispered, and for the first time, Tommy felt a bit of hope spark in his chest. He had thought his wings would fade to ash.

They were getting better. He felt a smile cross his face, the jaunty grin from his youth that had rarely appeared - appeared more recently since he'd met Tubbo, but still rarely - spread wider and wider as he relaxed further.

As they neared the inner gates, a smaller line was visible, guards checking some papers as the nobles filtered into the inner city.

"Invitations for the feast," Tubbo muttered when he caught Tommy staring at some of the elegant scrolls the nobles clutched. "Not the familial one, just the main one." Tommy had close to no idea what the boy was talking about, but he waited in line impatiently.

"Can't you just fly us over?" he sighed.

Tubbo rolled his eyes. "Look, Tommy, this is _your_ home. I have no doubt that your father and brothers have _some sort_ of defense mechanism for avariels flying into the inner castle. Like crossbows."

Tommy snorted. Sure, Tubbo was right - Techno had taken him on the walls and showed him the safety of the keep when he'd been getting his nightmares nine years ago. "Aren't you a good flier?"

Tubbo nodded seriously. "I haven't flown in weeks, though. And I definitely couldn't dodge carrying you."

"Are you calling me fat, Tubbo?"

The boy sputtered. "Wha - _no_ \- "

"I'm just kidding," he said. Tubbo rolled his eyes again and elbowed him in the side. The sharp burst of pain made him clench his teeth - not because it hurt; it _did_ , but that didn't bother him much anymore. What bothered him was the start of a flashback, what _bothered_ him was the feeling of a cold metal table despite standing upright.

"Invitations?" a rough voice said, jerking him out of his flashback. He was panting slightly, his teeth clenched so hard it hurt, his nails digging into the soft fleshy parts of his palms. Tubbo threw him an inquiring look at the quick breaths that were escaping from his mouth.

"Uh," Tubbo said. "We don't have any..." he trailed off.

"Well, then scram," the guard said, narrowing his eyes at Tommy - specifically the sword that was strapped to his waist, reaching for his own sword.

"No - " Tubbo said. "Let us in, I promise I can explain - "

The guard cut him off. "If you don't leave, I'm going to call the guards on you."

"No - " Tubbo said again. 

"Do it," Tommy said.

"What?" the guard at the gate asked, pausing.

Tommy glared at him. "I said, _do_ it, bitch."

Yeah. Maybe that was the wrong thing to say.

* * *

They run across the grass, the sticks and stones cutting into Tommy's bare feet. The clanking of metal is audible over the noise of the ocean, from the guards following them.

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT, TUBBO!" he yelled as they halted at the edge of the cliff.

" _My_ fault?" Tubbo shouted back at him over the crash of the waves against the cliff face. Tommy spun to see them cornered. His wings spread protectively in front of the younger boy, his sword long gone; dropped in the streets of the city after the gate guard had sent the squad against them. " _You_ called him a bitch!"

"He deserved it!" Tommy scowled. "He was sure as hell acting like one. And anyway, my social skills haven't improved much. I forgot they take eight-year-olds a lot less seriously, especially when said eight-year-olds are princes."

Tubbo shouted as an arrow was fired from a crossbow, and Tommy inhaled sharply, the sound of the bolt firing into space causing the world to fade to darkness again.

_There were hundreds of them. Small, tiny pinpricks - large javelin sized holes. Arrows. So many arrows. Crossbow bolts. Spearheads._

_He dies._

_Again and again, he dies. He always does._

_Always will._

"SNAP OUT OF IT!"

_There's a rush of wind. He feels it in his feathers, and he falls and he falls and he falls and he dies every time, because his wings are pinned by the stupid magic blockers and his back crashes into the ground and he gasps as he dies._

_Wind, more wind -_

"TOMMY!"

_He's alone, he's going to die again, again, again,_ ** _again_** -

"TOMMY!"

His eyes shot open and he screamed as he saw the waves of the ocean below. His wings snap open, but he couldn't fly, he _couldn't fly_ \- why wasn't he falling?"

"Tommy, I need you to relax."

He felt the high vice-like grip on his upper arm, and he looked up to see Tubbo straining to carry them both. But they weren't falling, which was something; they were drifting. He breathed a bit easier and tried to calm himself. He'd never liked watery deaths; it usually resulted in a double death because of the water in his lungs.

"Spread your wings," Tubbo instructed him, his wings flapping loudly. "Maybe you can't fly, but you're dead weight right now. Spread them and raise your back feathers."

Slowly, Tommy moved his wings into position. He could feel each of the individual black - and a bit of red - feathers as the wind crept through them. He felt Tubbo give a small sigh of relief, and then they were flying upwards, and Tommy kept his wings spread. He knew that if Tubbo dropped him he would probably fall to his death, but at least they were going up now.

They were flying a bit ways above the castle, and Tommy could see the roof that he and Wilbur had used to lie on before Phil yelled at them; he could see the tower room that had been his.

His wings gave a burst of pain suddenly, and he couldn't keep them spread and they were _falling_ , and Tubbo was shouting instructions at him, but his wings weren't listening, they weren't _listening_ , and everything hurt -

Glass shattered as Tubbo stopped their freefall and dove into a steep dive, running directly into a large span of paned glass and breaking it as they hit it, the shards flying into the air around them; an explosion of red and white and blue and yellow glass.

He yelled as his wing was caught under his body as he rolled on the ground, scrapes on his arms and legs and face from the stone floor, glass embedded into his skin.

"Well, fuck," he muttered, as just about two-dozen guards circled them, pointing their bows and crossbows and swords at the two. Tommy reached down and hauled Tubbo to his feet, the smaller boy rubbing at the scrape marks on his face.

"We're taking you to see the king," one of the guards said.

Despite the situation, Tommy felt another idiotic grin spread across his face. "You do that."

They did. They circled Tommy and Tubbo and started leading them through very familiar hallways and corridors. Some things had changed. Like the family portraits, his family had had made every year. The seven new ones didn't have him in it, and Wilbur and Techno and Phil looked exceedingly more tired and sad.

Maybe he meant something.

He was jumping on his toes in excitement, and even Tubbo had a small, if nervous, smile on his face.

"Come on!" he said. "This'll be fun, promise!" The guards gave him weird looks, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

The captain knocked on the door, and poked his head in. Tommy knew what room it was. The dining hall - it was nearing sunset, they'd be eating dinner now. If what Tubbo said was true, and his family was here as well, they'd _all_ be in there, as per custom.

"Your majesty?" the captain said, his voice muffled by the wood that separated his head and Tommy.

"What is it?"

Philza, that was Phil, that was his dad, and he sounded exhausted - shouldn't he be excited? He'd discovered Endlantis, this was one of his big days?

"We found two street boys who'd broken into the castle, and we were wondering what we should do with them?"

"Kill them?"

That was Techno, in his jokingly sarcastic voice. Tubbo stiffened by his side; he didn't know Techno all too well compared to Tommy, he probably thought Techno was being serious.

Tommy couldn't take it anymore, and grabbed Tubbo's hand, running straight for the door and kicking it open with one hand. The guard shouted, but they hadn't been expecting it and were too late as Tommy and Tubbo pushed the doors open fully to reveal the dining hall.

His breath caught as he beheld the familiar place. It was exactly the same as he remembered it. Iron chandeliers, tall pillars, a warm cozy fireplace, a table that was set for two dozen people.

He saw his family.

He saw Phil, with his crown on instead of his usual hat - probably because there were guests around. He sat at the head of the table with his blonde hair and blue eyes and green robes and he stared as Tommy and Tubbo burst into the room. His dark purple wings were folded neatly behind him in a way that made Tommy jealous; he didn't know how to properly fold his wings.

He saw Techno, whose pink hair was in a braid, and his brown eyes glittering with an unreadable expression. His red cloak was longer, with a few more tatters, but Tommy saw the patch where he'd patched it up with a different fabric with Phil's help when he was seven. His heart warmed at the gesture. Techno could have easily gotten a new one. He hadn't. Techno had his sword drawn by the time Tommy entered the room, bearing, of course, the fastest reactions in the room. His hawk-like wings had gotten much larger and were spread protectively in a battle-like stance.

Wilbur had gotten taller. Tommy was taller than Phil, now, which felt odd, and he wasn't sure about Techno, but Wilbur was still taller than him, and that irked him. He still wore his yellow sweater and black pants, though there was his more formal crown on his head. His wings, which were white and mustard-yellow, were folded just as neatly as Phil's. Tommy was still envious.

There were four other occupants in the room. There was a girl he recognized, one named Niki, who sat by Wilbur's side. There was a man that he also recognized - a man with a white mask and blonde hair and a crown atop his head. Tubbo's older brother. Dream. The king of the Dream SMP. He had wings much like Techno, though they were completely brown instead of the tan lines that Tommy's brother had.

There was a man with white goggles and brown hair and white wings, and a raven-haired man with black wings - how cliche, almost. If Tommy had to guess, they'd be Tubbo's family.

There was a brief moment where everyone stared at the two boys who had entered the room, the captain of the guard babbling about how sorry he was.

"TUBBO!" the black-haired man shrieked, and Tubbo yelled joyously and started running, and Tommy watched him go with a small smile, watching as Dream jumped up and ran over.

He saw Wilbur and Phil watching the unification of the family, but Techno was still staring at him, a look of confusion and wonder on his face as he wavered.

Tommy knew he wasn't sure.

Sure, he saw a boy with blonde hair and cyan eyes, but to everyone Tommy was dead. Phil glanced over, his brown furrowed and his eyes narrowed, but they were _unsure_ if it was Tommy.

"Who's that?" Dream asked, and Tommy looked over to see Dream glaring at him - what a bitch - and Tubbo holding up his wrist, where the small golden symbol of the music disc lay.

"That's my soulmate."   
  
Dream looked up sharply. 

"I'm Tommy," he said by way of explanation.

The moment the words had left his lips he saw Wilbur running towards him, and he barely had time to brace himself as warmth enveloped him and his wings, and he felt Wilbur holding him so tight that it was hard to breathe and he had to remind himself that he wasn't suffocating. It grew warmer, and he looked up to see Techno and Phil there as well, and tears _weren't dripping down his face_ , and he _wasn't_ crying, not at all.

Not at all.

He clung to Wilbur, the closest, as tightly as he could. He never wanted to let go, he never wished to let go.

He felt Wilbur draw back, and he wouldn't let go, because he didn't want to leave again, he didn't want to be taken, so he clung to Wilbur and there was a pause and he wondered if it was okay until a shaky hand came up and ran a hand through his noticeably dirty hair - though he didn't think that Wilbur cared much.

"Tommy?" Phil choked out.

He nodded against Wilbur's shoulder, and he noticed that Wilbur's sweater had a dark spot where he rested his face. Must be a fluke.

He _wasn't_ crying.

Not at all.

"Oh my god, you're alive," Wilbur sobbed loudly. "I thought you were dead, I thought you were gone - "

"You're not going to get rid of me that easily," he choked out, and he felt Wilbur hold him tighter until a flashback threatened to take ahold of him and he drew back before he blacked out, breathing heavily, playing it off as the tears instead of the remembrance of the ropes that had bound him until he had suffocated.

"Of course not, nerd," Techno huffed, and he felt the hand of his older brother running through his feathers. There was a small pause, and Tommy looked over his shoulder to see Techno looking at his soot-covered hand with an unreadable expression.

"I see you finally got your wings," Phil whispered, dragging him closer and hugging him tightly. Tommy once again felt the - _damn it, he wasn't crying_ \- tears run down his face as he hugged his father.

"Yeah," he breathed. "I'm a phoenix, see?"

"That explains a lot," he heard Techno mutter.

They separate, and Tommy only sniffles a _little_ , because he was strong and he wasn't crying. Not at all.

"Your feathers are darkening," he heard Dream say to Tubbo, and suddenly he felt self-conscious about his own nearly-black feathers.

Tubbo shrugged. "I died too many times too quickly," he explained.

Tommy saw Wilbur wince a bit at that nonchalant statement.

"Wait, I thought phoenixes couldn't die..." Techno said.

"No," Dream answered when Tubbo threw Tommy a look. "They can." He had a hand on Tubbo's shoulder, and Tommy wondered whether it hurt, because Dream's knuckles were white. "If a phoenix dies too many times in quick succession, they can die permanently. Or - "

"Netherite," Tommy said.

Dream paused. "How did you know that?"

Tommy grimaced and lifted up the sleeve of his shirt, revealing a thick white line that ran up his forearm to his mid-elbow. "It didn't heal when I died."

"You died?" Phil whispered.

He glared at his father. "Of course I did." He saw every single one of his family members wince at that.

"Right, well one can tell when a phoenix has died too many times when their wings turn dark and ashy..." Dream trailed off, surpraising Tommy. The man next to him with the white goggles took one look at Tommy and winced.

"They're supposed to be bright red and orange and yellow," Tubbo said, lifting his own and spinning around. "But Tommy..."

"It's been like that for years," he snapped, not wanting this sort of confrontation in front of his family. He wanted to be happy, not to talk about this past.

"It hasn't, actually," Tubbo snapped right back, surprising him. "They got darker when I arrived."

He snorted. "Well, it's not like I spend all day looking at my wings. I have better things to do."

He felt a hand at his shoulder, and spun to see Techno standing there, a furious look on his face. "How many times have you died, Tommy?" his eldest brother asked in a low voice.

His breath came in quicker succession.

Techno's hand was freezing. There was fury and rage in his eldest brother's brown eyes. He did not like that look directed at him, it reminded him of -

_Pain._

_That damned table._

_So cold, so freezing. Metal below his palms, below his wings. Chilling him to his very bone. Every time he felt that cold, he felt the -_

**_Pain._**

_He screamed._

"TOMMY!"

_He reached out to the tender care of Death, and sobbed in its open arms. It was the only reprise from the pain, from the horrifyingly cold metal table. He wanted to be warm again._

_But soon enough, he was ripped away from Death's grip and wrenched back into the arms of the living._

_Why was Death warmer than Life? He wanted to stay dead, if at least he got to be warm. He hated the cold._

"TOMMY, BREATHE!"

He'd heard that voice before. He'd been in this situation before. He knew that voice.

_A bee, floating in the darkness. A boy with caring brown eyes and wings like fire._ _A hand, outstretched, wanting to help. Tears like a waterfall, drifting down his face in a dream-like clearing of starlight._

Warmth.

He opened his eyes and he stared up at the fire that flickered towards the ceiling in an open pillar around him. It was beautiful, and it was loud, and most importantly, it was _warm_. From his position on his back, he turned his head and saw Tubbo sitting on the ground, one hand on his shoulder, and his wings spread protectively, fire radiating from the tips.

Tubbo saw him looking and threw him a small smile. "You need to relax," the boy whispered.

Tommy closed his eyes and reached up and took Tubbo's hand, bathing in the warmth the phoenix was radiating. He drew in a breath, and then let it out.

He felt the roaring of the fire recede as he faded into darkness.

* * *

His awakening wasn't startling or unexpected. Instead, it was like the gentle waves of an ocean. He felt himself awaken, slowly, and he was filled with comforting heat all around him. He opened his eyes and sat up, finding not his childhood room - for which he was relieved - but a different one. His wings felt around his shoulders, drooping in a position that was familiar to him but knew that nobody else had. He looked over and saw another bed pushed to the left of his, like they had as children, where Wilbur lay, sprawled on his stomach, his wings lying flat, the feathers nearly touching Tommy's hand.

Tommy looked towards the flickering fireplace and saw Phil asleep in the chair. He frowned, feeling the furrow form between his brows.

Where was Techno?

He slowly moved out of bed, his feathers twitching. He didn't feel tired. That was new. He always felt tired when he woke up, either from sleeping or for rebirth. Wilbur stirred on the other bed and he froze, watching as his older brother continued his snoring and went back to sleep.

With a last glance at Phil, he opened the door and stepped out, gritting his teeth at the cool marble floor under his bare feet. It made him want to leap back onto the bed away from the -

_Pain._

_A metal table -_

He shook his head. No. Not now. He glanced around for a moment, briefly forgetting the layout of the castle, before huffing and walking left through the moonlight patches that shone through the windows. The air was warm and humid, but he still shivered - it was freezing compared to the bedroom he'd been in.

It took him a while, but after four wrong turns and two climbs up and down the same staircase, he came upon the library. He knew that Techno was there - Techno had always been there on pondering nights, when he and Phil got into an argument or something of the similar happened.

He saw the man with a history book in his lap in front of the fire, his cloak draped around him, and his crown on the reading table beside him, the only light illuminating the room the crackling logs and flame inside the hearth. Tommy entered quietly, his bare feet padding against the now-wood floors.

"Techno?" he asked quietly.

His older brother looked up at him. "Aren't you supposed to be in bed?"

"What am I, eleven?" he shot back.

Techno winced. "Oh. Um."

Yeah, okay, maybe that was the wrong thing to say. He laughed nervously. "I noticed you weren't there." _In the room. You were missing._

"I shouldn't be," Techno muttered angrily, snapping his book shut with a sharp crack. Tommy jumped, his feathers ruffling up at the loud noise, his hand coming up to guard his face before he realized what he was doing and played it off as rubbing his nose.

Techno was smarter than that, though, and jabbed his finger in Tommy's direction. "See?! I keep doing that. First in the dining hall and now here."

"It's not your fault," Tommy said automatically.

Techno glared - not at him, but at the ground. "Yes, it is. I should _know_ better. I should be a better brother."

Tommy rolled his eyes. "And when I was younger and I set off your triggers from previous wars, you didn't blame me, did you?"

"Yeah, but _I'm_ the older brother," Techno grumbled.

Tommy smiled and walked over, grabbing the book from Techno's lap, which surmised in an annoyed huff. "It's easier to forgive than it is to forget," he said. "Also, this book is shit. You have shit taste in reading."

"Do you even know how to read?"

He sputtered. "What kind of fucking question is that, Technoblade? Of course I fucking know how to read."

"Second paragraph, seventh word," Techno said, jutting his chin out to point from where his head rested on his palm. "What word is that?"

He stared at it for a second, and then closed the book. "I can read, this lighting is just shit."

"Sure, Tommy."

* * *

"Hey Phil," he said, at breakfast the next day, when he and Tubbo had stopped throwing strawberries at one another after both Wilbur and Dream had told them to stop. "Will you teach me how to fly?"

Phil choked on the oatmeal he was eating, and Tubbo choked as well, but managed to finish the toast he was eating after George - the one with the white goggles, he'd been told - clapped him on the back, below his wings.

"Yeah," Phil said, all teary-eyed - must be because he'd been choking on the oatmeal, which Tommy _still_ didn't understand how he ate, because that shit was fucking disgusting. "Yeah, Tommy. Of course I can."


	2. Relive

_**Relive.** _

When Wilbur told Tommy that he wasn't allowed to go with him to the cave in which his younger brother had been captive for nearly eight years, he expected more fighting than the simple okay that he received. 

"You're...not mad?" he asked cautiously.

Tommy shrugged carelessly, and Wilbur was reminded how much his younger brother had grown up; now as tall as Techno and taller than Phil. "Dadza promised to teach me to fly, remember?" 

A small grin worked his way across his face. "You're not going to be flying _today_ , Tommy." 

"Of course I am," Tommy scoffed, and it was like he was a child again and they were bantering - except they were older now, and Tommy had a weariness about him that Wilbur didn't like; not at all. "I'm the greatest." 

Wilbur hesitated, walking over and giving Tommy a quick hug. "I'll see you in like three days, okay Toms?"

"M'kay," his younger brother grumbled, and Wilbur had to pretend he didn't see the fear that shone visibly in the boy's cyan eyes. "Tubbo and Techno and Dream are going with you, right?"

"Right," Wilbur said. "But Sapnap and George and Phil are gonna be here, 'kay? You'll be just fine. We're gonna get rid of the people that hurt you."

"You better start stabbin' shit," Tommy said with a small grin, and Wilbur was amazed how the boy could joke about after all he'd been through. "Otherwise _I'm_ gonna start stabbin' shit."

"Okay, Toms," Wilbur laughed, running a hand through Tommy's hair, and enjoying the way that Tommy huffed and pushed his hand away. "See you in a bit."

"See you," Tommy said, rubbing his wrist where the mark of a Phoenix Soulmate lay. He stepped back, and Wilbur hesitated.

"Trim your wings, bro. They look like shit." 

_They're regaining their color. You're getting better, Tommy. I promise._

" _You_ look like shit!" Tommy called as Wilbur took to the sky, spreading his yellow and tan wings, the voice of his little brother fading as the wind blew harshly in his ears. 

He couldn't imagine not being able to fly. He'd gotten his wings at roughly nine years - Tommy hadn't talked about specifically when he'd gotten his, but probably around that time - and when Tommy had fallen asleep after that _disaster_ of a reunion, they'd all had a lengthy conversation with the person that had claimed - and proven - to the soulmate of the youngest in the family. 

Tubbo had said that Tommy's wings were already better - apparently, they'd been black in the first place, but at least they had red now, and even a tidbit of orange. He'd also said that they'd talked for the first time in their shared dreamscape, which they randomly went to sometimes when they were both sleeping. Apparently, Tommy had died quite a lot, which had made Techno furious and Phil a cold-angry. Tubbo had blanched at that, and then Dream had gotten mad, and then it had all gone into an argument until Tommy had shifted and everybody had shut up and calmed down.

But seriously - he couldn't believe Tommy was back, after eight years. That he was _back_ , and _safe_ , and maybe he wasn't _sound_ , not yet - but he was back and Wilbur would do his damndest to protect him, which was why he was leaving. Maybe that didn't make sense, and he hadn't wanted to at first, but Tubbo couldn't keep Dream and Techno in check when they went on their murder sprees - and he had no doubt they were planning to. 

Not that he was going to stop them. After he got the information he needed, of course. Both of the two would just kill them and listen to the screams and _revel_ in the torture of the bastards that had hurt their little brothers. 

Wilbur wanted information. He wanted to know about the Fallen. He wanted to make sure their kind was eradicated so they would never steal children from their beds again. So that his brother could feel safe in this world. He knew it wouldn't be that easy. But it would make _him_ feel better to know that at least one kidnapping threat had been eliminated. It would allow him to rest a bit easier. It would stop Techno, who had for the past few days of having Tommy home, from roaming the hallways and sitting on the roof outside Tommy's window with his sword. It would stop Phil from sitting by the fireplace every night and not getting any actual rest. It would stop him from waking up in the middle of the night gasping and breathing hard and lifting the candle to see Tommy safely sleeping in the bed over - or sometimes next to him, when the boy grew cold. 

He landed on the hill; saw Techno leaning against the tree, his eyes closed. Wilbur knew that he was alert, that he wasn't really resting. Tubbo sat on the edge of the hill staring back towards the castle, his other hand tracing the small disc mark on his wrist. Dream, mask and sweatshirt on, and looking nothing like the king he was, stood behind his little brother. 

"Nice to see you've finally arrived," Dream said.

Wilbur ignored him, walking over to Tubbo. "Did you say something to Tommy?"

"What?" the boy asked. 

"He didn't bother to argue with me about not coming," Wilbur explained.

Tubbo shifted. "I did. Last night. He argued with me, and then I set him straight."

"Well, that's one thing we've never been able to do," Techno remarked with a small snort. "Good job, kid." Tubbo's feathers, blood-red, autumn orange, and mustard yellow, shifted at the title, and Dream touched his shoulder, signaling the smaller boy to get up. 

"Lead the way," Dream said, an eager grin on his face below his mask. 

Tubbo nodded nervously, spreading his wings and taking off. Techno grabbed his sword and followed him into the sky, and Dream threw a look at Wilbur before grabbing his ax off the ground and taking to the skies after his brother. 

Wilbur spared one last glance at the castle before he left it behind. 

* * *

"I don't know!" the Fallen screamed, thrashing in his bonds, tears pouring down his face. Wilbur couldn't find himself to feel any pity at all for the being. "I _don't know any more, I swear_ \- please let me go - "

His lip curled at the begging, and he backed away, his hand clenched around the bag of phoenix feathers stolen from his little brother. There were ninety-five of them total, one taken from Tommy each month, neatly labeled. He'd torn through them and shoved them into the back with tears pouring down his face as he'd noted the darker the feathers had gotten, and the blood splotches that had littered the table that Tubbo had said he'd died on. That Tommy had also died on.

Wilbur had barely managed to stop Dream and Techno from going on their killing rampage, only getting them to cease their bloodshed when he reminded them the more outposts they found, the more Fallen they'd get to enact their revenge on.

The assistant doctor was the last one, and Tubbo had gone white in seeing him, and Wilbur had told him to wait outside while they'd had a _chat_.

"Have at him," he told Dream and Techno, both of whom leaned against the walls, absolutely covered in black feathers and blood. His brother grinned sharply, his canines glinting in the candlelight. Dream's mask shifted, and Wilbur was astounded by the lethality in their movements as they stalked towards the person that had personally killed Tommy many times over, and Tubbo four. The person that had ripped out the feathers of his little brother and had installed fear in his very bones.

There was no remorse when he heard the Fallen whimper, straining against the ropes. "W-wait! You said I'd be free!"

"Free in death, maybe," Techno snarled. 

Wilbur shut the heavy metal door behind him as he left the room, the Fallen's scream cutting off into heavy silence. He leaned against the door, exhausted. He'd managed to obtain information on the existence of other outposts like this - maybe other phoenixes? - but not the whereabouts.

Also, he was terrified of Techno and Dream. When they fought, it was like the gods themselves had descended to wreak havoc upon the world, with people wondering who to side with. They were deadly and silent and so fast that one couldn't hope to ever defeat them without at least fifty guards as backup - and even then it was iffy. 

But as a team...he shuddered. As a team they were unstoppable. He had no doubt that if they wanted to take over the entire world, they probably could, if not for the existence of phoenixes. According to the small notebook that lay in his pocket; the notes of the doctors and the assistants, and cutouts from old legends, phoenixes were supposed to be the most selfless and caring and kind people out there.

And no offense to Tommy, but he wasn't many of those things. 

Then again, he didn't _know_ Tommy anymore. And things can change in eight years. 

Tubbo is sitting on the ground, flipping through another small book, tears running down his face. Wilbur wondered where he got it. He knelt down next to the shorter boy, wincing at the barely tangible scream that was heard through the door. Yeah, Techno and Dream would be at it for a while. "What's that you have?"

"Death counter," Tubbo muttered, clenching his fists. Wilbur watched as the small book burst into a short rush of flame, turning to dusty ash in the boy's unharmed palms.

Wordlessly, he held out the bag. "Can you...do that with this?"

Tubbo didn't ask questions, and took the bag from Wilbur, breathing out through his nose. It was a slightly more dramatic mini-explosion, and slower than the notebook, but it turned to flame as well, and Wilbur saw the feathers glowing as they burned. 

"What was in it?" the boy asked finally.

"Tommy's age feathers," Wilbur whispered. "The ones they tore out."

Tubbo closed his eyes, nodding softly. Both of them winced at the loud, piercing scream that was somehow heard through several feet of rock and a metal door. "I...want to show you something."

He grinned weakly. "Anything to get away from this."

"I don't want Techno to see it," Tubbo whispered as he stood up, brushing the fine layer of dust off of his clothes, and Wilbur was once again entranced by the soft glow of the boy's feathers, which looked brighter every day. He only wished Tommy healed that fast.

"Why don't you want Techno to see it?" he said finally.

Tubbo paused at the edge of a carved hallway that circled downwards. "I'm...afraid of him," the boy admitted quietly.

"He wouldn't hurt you," Wilbur said, taken aback. Tubbo had always appeared so strong, to him - he had come back to this place.

_For Tommy._

He was taking Wilbur somewhere that obviously terrified the living daylights out of him. Why?

_For Tommy._

"I...know," Tubbo said, still sounding unsure. "I _guess_ I know. Techno's scary sometimes."

Wilbur laughed dryly as he grabbed a candle from the wall, wincing as some of the hot wax splashed onto his bare hand. Tubbo started walking slowly down the passageway. "And Dream isn't?"

Tubbo shrugged. "Dream's my brother. I know he'd never hurt me. Not intentionally."

"Don't worry," Wilbur said assuringly. "In just a bit you'll have two crazy bloodthirsty monsters - I mean brothers. One of them just likes being chased by their friends with sharp swords, and the other likes reading and killing small orphan children." Tubbo cracked a small smile at the statement, and Wilbur's heart warmed at the look.

Before the whole _Tubbo has gone missing_ thing, Wilbur hadn't really met Tubbo. Tommy and Dream's younger brother had met a couple of times, but the families were secluded - and up until Tommy's disappearance, basically at the brink of war. After his younger brother's kidnapping, Dream had become super protective of Tubbo, and Wilbur had only seen him a couple of times in the years following - one was for the finding of Endlantis, the second was the Dream and Techno duel, and the third was because Tubbo had been announced officially as a phoenix - except three weeks later, he had been kidnapped, and Dream had gone all psycho. Despite the small bickerings the two families had, Wilbur had understood the loss of losing a younger brother, and had promised to help Dream find Tubbo.

Only to have the two march in with wide grins in the middle of a forlorn dinner.

There was silence as Tubbo led Wilbur further down the tunnel. He didn't like this place one bit - he liked it even less than the torture chamber upstairs, and that was saying something, because this was physically just rock and stone and a few torches in the walls. He didn't like it because he could almost see Tubbo shaking, his hands white. He knew that something bad was down here. He stepped nearer reassuringly but didn't move to touch Tubbo. He had no idea, if here, in this place, it would set a panic attack off. He didn't know Tubbo's tells, and he wished that he did. Tubbo was, after all, now an official part of his family - being Tommy's Phoenix Soulmate and all that. 

Finally, the cave leveled out and Wilbur held up a candle into the darkness - the last of the torches had disappeared a while ago - to see a row of cells, perhaps a dozen, evenly distributed on both sides of the passageway. He swallowed at the meager bedding and anger filled him; his wings shifting uncomfortably. No wonder Tommy can't fly - he hadn't seen the light of day and there wasn't even enough room in the cells to fully spread one's wings.

"Tubbo," he started. "Please don't tell me..." He was unable to form the next words. 

"Yeah," Tubbo said quietly, a bit of a shake in his voice. "This is where we were kept for the majority of our stay." The boy's footsteps are uneven and uncertain, but he led Wilbur down the passageway of perfectly-kept cells until they come to one that doesn't have any bars, fine lines of ash lining the floor. The sheets in that one are astray, and seven chalky white lines are visible on the walls, in shaky writing."

"That was mine," Tubbo said slowly, making no move to step closer. Wilbur took a closer look at the boy and saw the tears glistening on his cheeks, saw the ragged breaths that he drew in with every moment that they stayed here. "I was here for a month and a half, I think. They put binders on my wings so I couldn't use magic." Wilbur had heard this story before, but Tubbo's telling it to remind himself that he's not trapped - so he let the boy continue. "It was dark a lot, here. It was dark and then Tommy was there... _there_." Tubbo spun and pointed at the cell opposite him.

Wilbur turned.

Dropped the candle. It sputtered on the floor but continued to burn - whether a blessing or a curse, he didn't know. But what he did know was that Tommy had been in a nightmare and survived. 

The door was a pile of ash. But that wasn't what he saw - no, no, he saw the hundreds of white lines that lined the walls, the small chalky markings on the wall.

"Please don't tell me..." he whimpered.

"It's exactly what you think it means," Tubbo whispered. 

Wilbur screamed. In anger, in pain, in fear, he didn't know, he just _did_. 

Because he hadn't been enough. Hadn't been enough to save his little brother. Hadn't been enough to be there when Tommy had painstakingly marked off every single death that he'd ever had. Hadn't been there for him when the boy had gotten his wings after he'd died the first time.

He should have been there.

He hadn't been.

* * *

_Don't hit them don't hit them don't hit them don't hit them -_

"You're such a fucking loser," the leader of the gang sneered at Tommy. He nearly lost it, his wings puffing up in anger. "Think you're so cool, little Fallen? With your black wings and bloody feathers? Think you're so cool, dipshit?"

"Fuck off," he snarled, attempting to remain at least a little diplomatic. He'd only snuck out of the castle to watch Phil give his speech for the Endlantis Festival forty hours after Tubbo and the lot had left to go murder people. Sure, he was bummed out about not being able to stab shit, but he didn't want to go back there, to the outpost. He'd thought that he'd get to learn to fly, but Phil had started spouting boring shit about wing care and feather fluffing and he'd lost interest. 

Then he'd attempted to sneak back into the castle after the almost-as-boring Endlantis speech, and had gotten cornered by a small street gang; their leader jumping down from atop a building, gliding down in a way that made Tommy jealous. 

He needed to get back. His brothers were supposed to be back any minute. Phil had told him _not_ to leave the castle. 

He'd left the castle anyway.

"What did you say to me?" the leader asked, his blue and pink feathers fluffing up in agitation. 

Tommy snorted, trying not to act as if they scared him. As if he was not terrified out of his goddamn mind. As if he wasn't about to break down and have a panic attack. "You have pink feathers, bitch."

"What's wrong with that?" the leader challenged, narrowing his eyes.

Tommy shrugged, attempting to act nonchalant. "I dunno, man. Doesn't seem very manly at all."

"At least I don't fuckin' have Fallen feathers."

Tommy whipped his gaze to look at the other boy, one with ginger hair and green eyes. "Don't _fucking_ say that."

The leader snorted. "Why? 'Cause it's true, Fallen boy?"

"You're such a fucking idiot," Tommy said angrily. "You and your fucking group, you think you're so _cool_ \- " He faltered as they begin to converge upon him. "Gentlemen, I think we can come to an agreement here, no need to resort to violence - "

"Too late," the one with shoddily dyed green hair said. 

Tommy panicked.

He didn't remember what happened, much. He remembered the pain. He remembered someone's boot crashing straight into his ribs. He remembered hearing it crack. He remembered the knife that appeared from nowhere.

_He remembered the cold metal table. He remembered the pain. He remembered the laugh of the doctor, the pain as they yanked out his age-feathers. He remembered screaming, begging for a release - nothing._

He blinked, and he was in the glade, and Tubbo was screaming at him.

" - WHERE ARE YOU, TOMMY?"

He blinked stupidly, reaching up and wiping a dot of blood from his forehead.

He faded.

_He remembered the needles inserted into his body. He remembered asking for chalk on his tenth birthday, and to his surprise, he'd gotten it. He'd remembered counting his deaths on his fingers and reaching it up with his childlike hands and marking them off one by one._

The glade came back, and he coughed and there was blood coming from his nose now, and someone was sobbing loudly. 

"Come on, Tommy, please, give me _something_ \- "

_He remembered the doctor who tried things on him. He remembered the dark metal named netherite, the one whose scars had remained even after his body had reformed. He remembered waking up and seeing the blood, and waiting for it to heal over multiple bodies, multiple lives._

_Netherite was cold, he learned._

_He remembered._

His hand was warm, and he opened his eyes slowly to see the glade again, to see Tubbo clasping his hand to his own, singing something softly under his breath.

"...Tubbo?" he breathed out, feeling the blood crack on his face.

Tubbo's eyes shot open. "Tommy, where are you?"

He couldn't answer.

He opened his eyes and it was into fading daylight, and he groaned as he moved his shoulders. He knew that there were probably bruises littering his body, and at least one of his ribs were cracked and he had a dried-up bloody nose. He used a hand to stumble to his feet, limping from the pain in his foot. Hopefully, it wasn't broken.

Even if it was, it would heal when he - 

He froze.

_When he died._

He wasn't going to die. He wasn't there anymore, he was at his home - oh, fuck. Oh, shit. His family must be freaking out, no wonder Tubbo was crying - it was sunset, he was supposed to be home _hours_ ago. 

His hands shaking, he stumbled his way through the streets. They were empty for the most part, but a few people were here and there - though they avoided him when they got a close look. He felt a laugh bubble in his throat as he saw them duck and move away. He knew that he looked awful. He felt awful.

It was nothing he hadn't felt before. But at least he had a home to crawl back to.

The guards gave him an odd look, but he raised his hand and showed them the armband that Phil had handed him to prove that he was part of the family. They let him through.

He was so lightheaded. His hands were shaking, and his nose was bleeding again. His wings drooped, dragging along the ground. He couldn't really bring himself to care.

He walked through the side entrance into the hallways. They were empty for the most part - the occasional servant who avoided him like the townsfolk. 

He was so tired.

He just wanted to sleep.

He found himself walking up the stairs to his new bedroom, where Wilbur and Phil and Techno and Tubbo - at times - slept in every night.

He found himself too tired to even take off his shoes before he crashed face-first into the pillow.

He knew he got blood everywhere.

He couldn't find the will to care.

* * *

He wasn't in his room when he woke up. He was in some sort of hospital room. His chest hurt real bad, and so did his head, but he ignored them as he sat up, rubbing his eyes to remove the crustiness.

He saw just about everyone he'd ever known in the room, some of them in varying sleeping positions - but the moment Tubbo jumped to his feet and bounded over and shouted his name, that woke everyone up real fast. 

Tubbo's arms crashed around him as hundreds of questions were flung his way, too many, too many voices - 

_"STOP!"_ Tubbo shrieked, and Tommy realized that he had his hands clamped over his ears and his eyes shut tight. He brought them down with shaking arms, feeling the tears leak down his face - mostly from fear. Tubbo's wings were outflung, and burning at the tips - he hadn't known phoenixes could do that. He opened his eyes and saw the horrified faces of his family and his - _friends?_

He honestly wasn't sure.

"Hey, what happened?" Tubbo asked him in a quiet voice.

He felt his mouth twist into a small grin, felt his lips crack, and the small bead of blood flow down his chin. Wilbur made a noise of discontent, and made to move forward, but Phil flung out his hand and stopped his older brother.

Tommy appreciated it. No matter how much he wanted to be with his family, he didn't know if he could take another person coming closer. Not now. 

"Got beat up," he said finally.

"Who?" Techno demanded, and Tommy flinched. Everyone turned to glare at the pink-haired man, who tried his best to look apologetic - he didn't pull it off very well - before he went back to looking menacing. 

"Ay, Techno," he said warily. "Didn't know you got home."

"...we've been home for two days," Wilbur said. 

"Oh," he said slowly. "Is that how long I've been out?"

"Yeah," Tubbo said. "Tommy, I need to know what happened. I need to know if more of _them_ are out there."

He looked sharply at the boy. "What? No, it was just a bunch of stupid fuckin' street boys." 

Wilbur sighed in relief, his feathers drooping. 

"Dammit," Techno muttered. "I would have really liked to kill more of 'em."

"Yeah, um, I want to know who did it," Tubbo said. 

"No."

"What do you mean, _no?"_ Tubbo said in surprise. 

"No means no," Tommy said stiffly.

Tubbo looked over his shoulder at Dream. "Is this like the conversation we had a couple of days ago about consent?"

Tommy laughed and Dream let out a loud wheeze like a tea kettle that made everyone stop and stare at the blonde-haired man in surprise. Tubbo rolled his eyes and turned back to Tommy. "Why won't you tell me who did it?"

"I can deal with it," he said. 

"Obviously you can't, you got your ass kicked, nerd," Techno pointed out. 

"First of all, they started it," Tommy said, snorting and shaking his head. 

"Why didn't you just walk away?" Wilbur sighed.

Tommy bristled, his dark red feathers puffing up in anger. "They called me a Fallen, Wil. All five of them. And one of them had a knife."

Techno's expression darkened. "They called you _what_?"

"A Fallen," Tommy said, shivering slightly, even though the room was warm. "'Cause of my feathers, see?" He spread his dark wings and bristled the feathers slightly. 

"Those _fucking assholes_ \- " Wilbur snarled, and Phil put a hand on the taller man's shoulder. 

"Why were you even out there, Tommy?"

"You told me to stay," he muttered. "But I was curious about what Endlantis was." 

"It's just a speech," Sapnap said from his corner of the room. "Like every speech it's been for years, it's so boring, haven't you - " he froze as everyone in the room turned and glared at him. Sapnap swallowed. "Ah. Right. My bad." 

"I seem to remember you were super excited on your first Endlantis speech," Dream said dryly, picking at his nails with a wickedly sharp knife that hadn't been there earlier. Tommy blinked at it in surprise. 

"I'm sorry, okay?" Sapnap said, rubbing his ears in embarrassment. "I forgot." 

"I have a question," Phil said, and Tommy turned to look at his father. "Why'd we find you in your bed?"

"...because I walked home...?" he said. 

"And you _didn't_ come to one of us?" Phil said. "We were worried out of our minds, Tommy. We were _terrified_ after Tubbo told us what he saw in your dreamscape. We thought you were dead."

"I'm sorry, okay?" he said, annoyed. "I just forgot."

" _Forget_?" Wilbur said, astonished. "How do you just forget that you have a family that might be looking for you?"

"BECAUSE I HAVEN'T HAD ONE FOR EIGHT YEARS, WIL!" he screamed, jumping off the bed and wincing at the rush of blood that poured down his leg from reopened wounds. Wilbur shut up at his outburst. "You think this is the _first_ time I've been in situations like this?"

Silence.

"No," he snarled. "It's _not_ . And every single time that I didn't die, I had to walk back to my cell and lie down and wake up in the morning. And sometimes I didn't. Wake up, I mean. At least, not in the same life that I'd been the night before. No family to take care of me, no bandages, and nothing to relieve the pain. I'm sorry that I was in panic mode and forgot instincts that have been ingrained into me for nearly half of my life, okay? I'm sorry that my first thought was _wow, that's another mark to the wall_ and not _maybe I should tell someone that I'm hurt_ . I haven't been able to tell someone that I'm hurt for _years_. Not anybody that cared, anyway." He was panting slightly as he took a break from his rant, and he noticed that more than half the room - Dream, Sapnap, Techno, and George - were staring at him shocked. The other half - Tubbo, Wilbur, and Phil - were crying. He didn't know why. He reached up a hand and scrubbed at the mix of blood and tears on his face, his palms digging into his cheeks. "I'm sorry that I forgot that I had a family." 

And he was.

He was sorry that he had worried them. He was sorry that his first instinct hadn't been to warn them - Wilbur was right, they probably _had_ been freaking out about his disappearance. 

He was sorry that he had forgotten. 

But he was also angry that _they_ had forgotten what had happened to _him_.

* * *

"You really shouldn't be walking around," Tubbo warned him the next morning when Tommy popped bright and early - well maybe not _brightly_ , but definitely early - into the dining hall. 

"I'm fine," he said reassuringly, ignoring the pain in his head and trying to walk off the small limp in his left leg. 

Tubbo snorted. "Don't even try to lie."

He glared at the boy. "Look, it doesn't hurt."

"Because you're blocking it out!"

"It doesn't hurt, and that's what matters!"

"WHAT MATTERS IS THAT YOU ARE KILLING YOURSELF, TOMMY!" Tubbo screamed. 

Tommy took a step back from shock, his eyes widening and his mouth hanging open. 

"You can't even create fire," Tubbo said. "Because there is nothing left to burn."

* * *

It happened again.

He hadn't been able to learn to fly because of what had happened - he was still injured, and he could further injure himself, according to Phil, which was stupid. He was fine. He could walk fine by the fourth day. He could move fine by the seventh. Nothing hurt by the eighth. 

He snuck out on the tenth. He hated being shut up. He wasn't allowed out of the castle, and it was like being shut up at that damn outpost all over again - even if he could walk around and talk to his family. He didn't get to walk on the grass outside the city limits, and he wanted to so badly it hurt. He wanted to climb the trees and listen to Tubbo spout off random facts about animals. He wanted to lie in the grass and watch the sunset and listen to his favorite music discs and be by his family.

Being in the castle walls was just like another cage with your goals right in view. He could stare up at the blue sky, but out of the corners of his eyes, he would always see the walls. He could climb the trees in the garden, but there would always be guards and people judging him. He could sit in the dining hall and eat as much as he wanted, now - but it just wasn't the same. It wasn't the same that he and Tubbo had done on their way here. 

He loved his family. 

They were a bit overbearing.

When he sat in a room trying to read - he _could_ read, he refused to say otherwise, he just needed a bit of practice - Phil would swoop in - sometimes quite literally, through the open balcony window - and start to fuss over his wounds. Techno would pop in and give him tips on his writing and grammar skills until Tommy cursed him out, and Wilbur would just _hover_ awkwardly. Tubbo came in and talked a lot, talked until Tommy grew weary of the rambling and either fell asleep, or told Tubbo to go away. 

He begged them to go out, but they refused every time - and so on the tenth day, he snuck out. He hadn't wanted to, but it had been getting hard to breathe. Phil refused to teach him to fly, and it was like he could _taste_ true freedom but couldn't touch it.

So he snuck out. 

And then it happened again.

He hadn't planned to be out that long. Maybe for two hours. 

On his way to the front gates, he was jumped by the _same group of boys_ that had injured him before. It was kind of his fault, really. He was walking down an alleyway because he didn't like the looks that the townsfolk gave him. 

His feathers pricked up before he heard someone, and he spun, desperately wishing he'd brought a weapon, to see the same five boys stalking towards him again. 

"Come back for seconds?" he asked, raising his fists and eyeing the knife that the leader had in his hands.

"See?" the head boy smirked, turning to the rest of the gang. "He _is_ a Fallen. Normal people don't survive that."

Tommy bit his tongue so hard that blood welled into his throat. "And if I _had_ died?"

The boy shrugged. "You probably support them."

"They're just fuckin' feather colors, man," Tommy said. "They don't _mean_ anything. Also, they're mahogany colored."

The boy sneered. "Oh, you with your fancy words. You fancy yourself a noble?"

"Shut the fuck up, bitch," he snapped. 

They rushed him. He kicked at one, who yelled when something in his shin cracked, falling to the floor and clutching his leg. He dodged another person's fist, but the second one hit him in the side - 

He'd felt the pain before and reveled in it, his hand snapping out and hitting someone in the cheek. His knuckles hurt from the impact but he shook it off and ducked just in time to dodge the slash the boy with the pink and blue wings made with the knife. It cut into his cheek, and he felt the blood drip down his face as he spun and kneed the third boy in the chest, not able to find any remorse in him when the boy fell, wheezing, and clutching at his likely-cracked ribs.

He turned to face the last two boys - the red-haired one and the one with the knife, finding a maniacal grin spread across his face. This was so _easy_. He could fight back. 

_He could fight back_.

"See?" the boy with the pink and blue wings hissed at the ginger-haired boy. "It's unnatural."

"Shouldn't we report this?" the ginger-haired boy said nervously, glancing at Tommy with scared green eyes.

"No," the leader snorted. "We can take 'em out."

He almost felt bad. Almost. The idiot had succumbed to peer pressure. 

So he yelled his battle-cry and leaped at them. 

It ended with the red-haired boy passed out against the wall, and Tommy lying on his back, his wings pinned down, the blue-haired boy bearing down on him, the knife a finger's breadth away from his chest. He pushed against it, but he had never been strong - always gangly, always the skinny one, always the fast one - never the one with brute force.

"Die, Fallen scum," the boy hissed, and Tommy's head hit the ground as he felt the dagger slip into his chest.

Cold. Cold metal. Cold room, cold _room_ \- 

"TOMMY!"

The cold disappeared and he scrambled away, clutching the deep slash in his chest, panting heavily as he watched the five boys in varying degrees of hurt scramble away from his older brother - his eldest brother, who stood there in his patched-up cloak with his pink hair - how could one look so scary, so _infuriated_ with rage?

His hands shook, and he didn't know why. The cuts didn't hurt that much. 

"Hey, Techno," he said amicably.

His older brother watched the boys leave, his grip tightening on his sword. Clearly, he wanted to hunt them down and kill them. There was a brief pause - and then Techno sheathed his sword and spun around and ran towards him.

"You okay?" the man said.

Tommy shrugged. "A few cuts."

"Is that the same group of boys that jumped you last time?"

"Yep," he said. "Hey, but this time I beat 'em up more than they beat me up! What do you have to say about that, Techno?"

Techno rolled his eyes and hauled him up. Tommy tried to keep the wince of pain as the cut in his chest stung from the effort. "I think you lost, nerd."

He scowled. "Did _not_. I would have won if you hadn't come barging in."

"I saw you having a panic attack with a knife buried an inch in your chest," Techno said matter-of-factly, and Tommy paused for a second, shock flooding through his system. 

"Was not," he muttered.

Techno didn't reply, but obviously knew he was lying.

He didn't get to see the trees that day. What he did get was another argument with Phil and Wilbur and Tubbo; another argument. He was afraid that this would continue. He told them that he couldn't breathe in the castle, and that he had to see nature. Tubbo quickly took his side, and was able to explain it much better than he had, and _finally_ , finally, they relented, and Phil told him that he'd take them out to the apple orchard the next day. 

And then proceeded to call in a nurse and give Tommy four stitches across the cheek and seven in his chest, along with some tea for the pain. 

It didn't hurt, but by the look on Phil's face, he drank it without complaint. It tasted awful. 

He'd had worse. 

Techno and Dream ended up hunting down the five boys that had attacked him twice. They made a game of it too. They recounted the tale at breakfast the next morning, and Tubbo and Phil looked slightly nauseated by it, but George and Sapnap listened eagerly, and Tommy was only _slightly_ grumpy that Techno had gotten them thrown out of the city instead of him.

Dream said that Techno would have killed them, but he told Techno not to - that the elements would be a far worse death than the blade. 

They went out to the apple orchard that day. Tommy and Tubbo ran through the trees and picked apples and threw them at Techno, who caught every one with reactions that surprised even Wilbur - and then proceeded to chase Tommy and Tubbo through the trees pelting the apples at them until Phil told Techno to stop because he didn't want Tommy to break his stitches. 

Which then ended in Techno continuing to chase Tubbo and then Dream and Techno starting an apple fight - which in turn ended in Wilbur, Tommy, and Techno versus Dream, George, and Sapnap. In an apple-throwing competition.

"YEAH, BITCH!" Tommy screamed loudly as he hit George in the head. He ducked as Sapnap threw one right back, hauling up George as the shorter man got up with a small grumble, rubbing his head.

"VIVA LA REVOLUTION!" Wilbur shouted, pelting Sapnap. 

Dream and Techno pulled out their swords, then. And then it was all chaos from there. Nobody could stop them when the two got at it, so eventually, Tommy and Tubbo had to wrestle the swords away from their older brothers, and Tubbo even ended up heating the metal so both warriors were forced to drop their swords. 

He forced Tubbo to catch him when he jumped from apple tree to apple tree, his wings folded tightly behind him because he didn't know how to fly. Phil yelled at him when he found out, but Tommy ignored him and ran off after Tubbo, who was trying to find a beehive. Tommy managed to somehow the bees to such an extent that they chased him and Tubbo back through the trees, where he had to hide behind Wilbur - the only one taller than him. 

He only had two panic attacks that day; both small and easily forgotten. One came because of falling into a river and getting chilled to the bone. The second was the clash of metal against metal when Techno and Dream were fighting.

Both were short. Both left him sweating and shivering even in the warm weather. Both had Tubbo clutching his hand. He made sure nobody noticed - hell, he hadn't even wanted Tubbo to notice, but Tubbo _always_ noticed.

He lay awake in bed that night, listening to Wilbur's soft snoring, and wondered if he were a burden because of his problems.


	3. Repeat

So, learning to fly wasn't exactly the easiest thing in the entire world.

First - his wings were overgrown, and Phil had to go through and yank out all the feathers, all while Tommy sat still and tried not to think of the cold hands that had yanked out his age-feathers many times over. Luckily, Phil's hands were warm and comforting, and he did it gently and apologized each time and put antiseptic over each little hole that was created. 

Second - his muscles weren't strong enough. So Tommy was forced to stand with his wings outstretched at the top of one of the peaks of the castle with either Techno, Wilbur, Phil, or Tubbo there, his wings outstretched, the wind blowing against his wings to mimic flying. It hurt. A lot. And he stood there for hours gritting his teeth while Techno read a book or Wilbur practiced his guitar or Tubbo rambled about bees. And he failed. He failed a lot.

But he got better. He got better. He could stand there for nearly forty minutes before passing out. He could stand there and not have intense flashbacks each time the wind parted his wings with cool hands. He could stand there and spread his wings and feel as if he were truly flying.

Just a bit. 

Dream would sit with him sometimes when his family was unavailable. They were staying at the castle until everyone got better - not to mention nobody had any idea how to separate Tommy and Tubbo. They had a bit of a tough relationship - but Tommy respected the man for being a brilliant strategist and an amazing fighter, even if he poked fun at him for being essentially faceless. 

Dream talked about phoenixes too. And that was what interested Tommy the most, because his innermost family didn't know much about phoenixes.

One time he was standing at the ledge, trying not to fall, when Dream spoke. There had been silence for about thirty minutes - and Tommy was straining not to fall over. 

"There was another phoenix before Tubbo, you know," Dream said.

"No," Tommy replied through gritted teeth, his eyes watering. Keeping his wings like that hurt _so bad_. "I didn't know."

"He was our friend," Dream said softly, and Tommy looked over his shoulder to see the masked man staring at the ground - lost in thought, perhaps? "And he was the kindest person you would have ever met. He was an amazing, heartfelt person, and he was the one who taught me how to feel the wind currents when flying and track animals in the forest." Dream let out a sigh. "He disappeared nearly a dozen years ago, taken by the same Fallen."

Tommy feels his heart drop, just a bit. "I'm...sorry, Dream, but there weren't any other phoenixes," he said. "I've never met another one before Tubbo."

Dream sighed again. "Tubbo didn't think so, but I was hoping...well, I guess not." He shook his head. "I'm glad I got my brother back, even if I never got Bad back."

Tommy frowned. "His name was Bad?"

"You got a problem with it?"

Tommy stepped down from his position at the windy edge, breathing a sigh of relief as he put his feathers down by his side. "Not really. Just surprised that was his name."

Dream smirked weakly. "He was the farthest thing from bad one could possibly be, and a phoenix at that." Dream leaned down and picked up his sword. Tommy tried not to feel fear from the sharp metal, but it leaked from him nonetheless, and Dream noticed - of course, he did, he was _Dream_ \- but didn't say anything. "I just miss him sometimes. He's how I met George and Sapnap, after all." He tilted his head at Tommy. "You should go stand at the edge again."

Tommy rolled his eyes but stepped up again, spreading his wings and groaning when the wind brushed against his hurting muscles. He was about to get back into the quiet place inside his head when he felt two strong hands on his back shove him off.

He screamed as he fell - and then Dream was divebombing next to him. "Spread your wings!" the man ordered.

"FUCK YOU!" he screamed, but spread them out. His world jolted as the wind caught them, and he saw Dream flying upside down from below him, staring at him. 

It was the oddest feeling in the world. Now that the wind wasn't screaming in his ears, and Dream was safely below him in case he fell - he had no doubt the masked man could catch him, he'd seen the games that George, Dream, and Sapnap had played in the air. Dream could glide with Dream _and_ Sapnap hanging on, dragging him down. 

Heights was one thing he wasn't afraid of. He was afraid of cold, of heat, of metal scraping sounds like swords-against-swords - of swift, abrupt pain, of needles...but heights had never affected him.

Maybe this wasn't flying. He wasn't flapping his wings like Dream - didn't know how. But this feeling of being able to go wherever he wanted - technically - just at the dip of his wings felt wonderful. Felt more freeing than being confined to the ground, where there were walls and people to avoid. There was so much _space_ in the air. 

They drew closer to the ground, and Dream spun in a smooth move, snapping out his wings. Tommy yelped and dodged the man, who smirked at him.

"Fuck you, green bastard," he huffed, but inside he was secretly glad that Dream wasn't holding anything back. His family was extremely overprotective, and while that was, at times, fun, it got droll real fast. 

"Tilt your wings vertically," the blonde-haired man ordered. "Feet first."

"That's not what you're doing!" Tommy said, trying his best to follow Dream's suggestions and managing to flail around.

"I'm an experienced flyer. You are not."

"No," Tommy said, the ground quickly approaching. "I'm - the - best - flyer - in - the - world."

He landed on his feet. Then he proceeded to be so surprised at his landing and fell flat on his face.

"TOMMY!"

He pushed himself to his feet sheepishly and watched as his father stormed out into the courtyard that they'd landed in. Dream leaned against a tree, not looking apologetic one bit. 

Phil looked furious - and terrified. Mostly furious. "Tommy, what did I say about flying?"

"Technically I wasn't flying," he said, trying and failing to keep the grin off his face. "I was gliding."

"Tommy - "

"He's pretty good at it, I'll admit," Dream said.

Phil whirled on the masked man. Despite being shorter, Dream took a step back, his smirk finally slipping off his face. "And _you_! You're up there so he doesn't make stupid decisions like leap off the edge of the tower!"

"He didn't jump. I pushed him."

"YOU FUCKING _WHAT_?"

* * *

Okay, so Dream got in trouble big time. Tommy didn't really see the huge deal, but he wasn't the one being yelled at, so his opinion didn't really matter. When Techno found out, he laughed, but Wilbur and Phil were _pissed_ , and Tubbo was mad at Dream. 

Dream didn't seem to regret it. Tommy didn't regret it either. He did it again, on his own, much to the chagrin of his family. The second time, he crashed into the tree, and then Phil said that he wasn't allowed anywhere alone - which was fair, to be honest, but he still was annoyed about it - 'till he found out that his bodyguard was Tubbo, and then he was glad, because Tubbo followed him around and he could convince the shorter boy to do things. 

Like fill Techno's shampoo with bright pink hair dye. Not the soft, light fluffy pink it had been before; but a bright pink. Techno dyed it back a few days later, but Tommy still had tears come to the corner of his eyes when he'd first seen Techno come into the dining hall with tired eyes and hot pink hair. Everyone had gone dead silent - and then he'd burst out laughing and Tubbo had started snickering and the gig had been up. 

Worth it.

Or untune every single one of Wilbur's instruments and hiding them in various places around the castle - including hanging his favorite guitar from the chandelier. His older brother spent the next three days fuming and searching for his precious instruments, but when Tommy was asked if he'd done it, he said that he couldn't fly and get it up to the high places that they'd been. Which was true, but Tubbo had flown them up there, so they evaded being found out until George snitched on them and Tommy jumped off the tallest tower again to escape Wilbur's clutches, which ended in _another_ annoyed talk with his father about not jumping off tall towers. 

Or even his greatest feat - managing to convince George to put a very yellow carpet in Dream's green room as a gift. It was meant to be green to match the aesthetic - it had been a temporary room at first, but at this point, it had just sort of escalated and it was more permanent. George had - stupidly - asked Tommy to help him color match the bedsheets and a carpet that he'd had to pick out because he'd gotten food on Dream's carpet and had to cover it up. So yellow it was, and Tommy greatly enjoyed the manhunt that quite literally followed throughout the halls of the castle, until everyone was exhausted unable to sleep and Technoblade joined in and then there was another Dream versus Techno match that Phil had to step in and stop when they were tied fifty-three to fifty-three nearly fourteen hours later that showed no signs of stopping.

But of course, as all things were - they must come to an end.

And come to an end they did.

* * *

He didn't understand why this was happening. 

He didn't understand why his life was full of mountains and valleys and plot points. He didn't understand how everything could go so beautifully right and so awfully wrong.

It was just supposed to be a sightseeing hike with Tubbo. It was meant to draw them together. His wings were finally healing; the yellow a mustard and the reds and oranges becoming vibrant - though Tubbo's was far brighter. He was finally getting better.

Tubbo had suggested they go into the mountains for a picnic - barely thirty miles away. After weeks and weeks of begging, Phil had finally let them go - not before scouting the place out with Techno and Dream. 

Speaking of Dream, he'd allowed it because of _quality soulmate bonding_ time, whatever that meant. 

Tommy wished that his father had told him no. 

Because the Fallen were here. Were here for him and Tubbo, because they were phoenixes - no, not for _him_ -

"Where's your fucking older brother?" the one holding him by the scruff of his neck sneered, and Tommy was panicking, and Tubbo was shouting against the bonds that restrained his wings; restrained his powers. Tears flooded down the shorter boy's face, and Tommy was frozen. His own wings were shackled once more, and he thought he'd been _done_ with that - but no - no, he was doomed to be chained once more. 

Tommy felt a slap burn across his face as the man with the black wings holding him hit him sharply, bringing him back to the present. "I said, _boy_ , where's the pink-haired bitch who slaughtered our brothers?"

Tommy took a deep breath - and let it out. He blinked a few times, and watched as Tubbo quieted down, seeing that he was okay - well, as okay as one could be in a time like this. 

He spat in the man's face. "Fuck you, bitch," he snarled, trying to shove him away - failed, of course, but tried anyway.

The man sneered, his black eyes boring into Tommy's, reminding him of previous horrors, a past that he did not like thinking about, one he was sure he had left behind. "Well, if that's how you want it to be." He looked over his shoulder and nodded at the five other Fallen behind him, one of whom was holding a struggling Tubbo. 

Tommy felt the air leave him as the Fallen took off in a powerful blast of wings, carrying him upwards, he grabbed the man's hand and tried to twist it out - he had to - but it was strong, so strong that his hands were turning purple where he was being grabbed. 

Besides, even if the man let go, he would die. And then he would wake up in captivity. If he was going to another outpost, he would prefer if he knew where it was. He looked over his shoulder to see Tubbo between two of the Fallen, thrashing and screaming profanities that Tommy couldn't hear over the noise of the wind. 

Inside, he was terrified. Inside, he wanted to cry and shudder and curl up in a ball and die. Inside, he wished it would end. 

Not like this. 

It couldn't end like this.

Flashes of a field in his mind. Of a phoenix, standing in the field, with brown hair and brown eyes and a glowing wrist and his hand outstretched, whispering words of encouragement as Tommy fought to keep his past at bay. As memories of his distraught plagued him, he fought for control.

His battle was halted as the group began their sudden downwards spiral, and Tommy's eyes shot open to see that they were heading down through the clouds - when had they gotten that high? He didn't know, didn't much care as a horrifying sight filled his gaze - a mountain, but not just a mountain, a mountain with a hole in the center, a hole with a glittering pool of orange and yellow liquid at the bottom of a huge caravan.

No, no no no no no - he loved the warmth, but this was _too_ warm - 

They landed at the edge, and Tommy screamed as he was hoisted over the edge, legs flailing into space as he grabbed onto the arm holding him. 

"TOMMY!" Tubbo screamed, his wings flashing, and going out as the binders stopped his power from activating. 

No, no no no, _not like this_ \- 

The man holding him had a pleased look on his face, as desperation coursed through Tommy's body. There were hands on his back, and the binders were off and his wings were free, _why why why_ \- 

"I heard the little phoenix couldn't fly," the man murmured, and Tubbo's eyes widened with unspoken horror, still struggling, but speechless now. 

Tommy looked down and almost threw up - it was such a long way down. No matter how fire resistant he was, he would perish, and his ashes would burn, and he would permanently die. 

_Not like this_ \- 

When had his life gone so - as Tubbo aptly put it - pear-shaped? He'd been laughing, learning to fly, able to sleep in a bed alone, finally for one night not had nightmares - and he'd been actually able to raise a sword to Techno to do a small sparring session. 

And now he was dangling into space, tears pouring down his face, his wings fluttering briefly, unable to do anything at the hands of the Fallen who had come for revenge. 

The man looked over his shoulder at Tubbo, who had stopped struggling.

"Please," Tubbo said, and Tommy had _never_ heard the words so broken in his entire life. "Please don't do this."

The man laughed. "This is for the murder of my nestmates," he snarled, his black eyes going back to Tommy. "Your flock member can deliver the message to the ones called _Technoblade_ and _Dream_." He spat the names, and Tommy's blood ran cold. "This is payment for the murder of my flock."

Hesitation.

"Fly little phoenix. Fly or die."

Tommy screamed as he was dropped, his eyes flashed to Tubbo as his wings spread out, but he _couldn't_ fly - 

"TOMMY!" Tubbo screamed. 

And then he fell, because he couldn't fly, and he was falling through the narrow gap, his wings brushing against the mouth of the small hole that led to the caravan of lava, and it was getting hotter and hotter and then the hole opened up into a caravan - 

It was so fucking hot, and he was going to die. 

A burst of red - was that fire? Was that his final death? 

Red, orange, yellow...darkness.

* * *

The small golden music disc on his wrist glowed no more.

A faded, ghostly grey. 

He was numb. He was so numb, that after everything Tommy had been through - he was gone. He didn't even react when the Fallen laughed and congratulated each other. 

His soulmate was dead.

His best friend was dead.

He was tired. Too tired to cry. Too tired to care as two hands came and grabbed his arms, and he didn't even try to fight, because he didn't care. 

He didn't care as he heard that the Antarctic Empire had successfully been taken over in a surprise attack, overwhelmed by the hundreds of Fallen that had rushed to attack it. 

He didn't care that his family was under capture, and that he was to be placed with them. 

He didn't care anymore. He stared towards the mountain as they flew towards the castle and he wondered where it had gone so wrong. He wondered if Tommy was in a better place, if he was happy now. 

He wondered where phoenixes went when they died.

The music disc on his wrist remained the stupid dull grey that it had turned as Tommy had fallen. A sign that Tommy truly was...gone.

After all that.

After the joy he had felt when Tommy had smiled and laughed. After the pranks they had pulled, after he had sat with Tommy for hours and tried to make him happy. After the rescue mission that had left him shaking alone in his room; after the deaths that had made him want to stay near the fire.

He hadn't had it nearly as badly as Tommy, so he'd let them take care of his soulmate. He didn't mind, he was _fine_.

But now after everything, Tommy was gone. 

He didn't know he had blanked out until there were hands on him, shaking him, and he was staring into the green eyes of his older brother. 

Why wasn't Dream wearing his mask?

He laughed at _that_ thought - that's what was important right now? _That_ was an important thought? 

Dream looked worried.

He sat in the meadow, alone. Alone, curled up, waiting for a soulmate that would never come. He stared at the music disc on his arm and he cried into his knees, his wings curled around him. He sat and he cried and he wanted to die.

People were shouting around him. It was too much to take in. There was someone with pink hair and someone with a green and white bucket hat and someone softly singing under his breath. 

People were asking him questions and people he didn't like shouting orders and someone grabbing him. There was blood and terrified looks and questions flung his way, but he didn't know, he _didn't know_.

The meadow remained empty. 

There was a moment of clarity. There was a moment where he looked up and realized that there were six other people in the room with him. There was a moment when he saw the blood and the wing bindings and he realized that his family - and Tommy's family - were all here.

There was a moment when he realized they were in serious trouble.

"Dream?" he said.

They looked up at him. He didn't know how long it had been. Didn't know what day it was. Dream's mask was off - his green eyes and freckled face had blood and bruises on it, and Techno's hair was chopped short. 

"Tubbo?" Wilbur said. "Tubbo, where is Tommy?"

That name. That name hurt his heart, split his soul in two. He couldn't concentrate on that name, on that name's older brother, on anyone but the blonde-haired man who had made his way over to his side.

"Dream," he said slowly, focusing solely on his brother and feeling a bit of relief as Phil put a hand on Wilbur's shoulder. "Dream, I think my soulmate is dead." 

_I don't think._

_I_ **_know_ . **

He held up his wrist and stared at the greyness that had once been gold. Saying his brother's name helped reinforce him. "Dream - Dream, I saw him fall."

Silence. Mindnumbing, horrifying silence. Techno was staring at him, and Wilbur had wide eyes and Phil's mouth was open and he didn't want to deliver this message - but this was his moment of clarity and he wanted to sink back into the numbing emptiness so he didn't have to feel the pain in his heart at Tommy's death and his own recapture. 

"Dream, I felt him die."

His heart burst into a million splintered pieces. Techno was on his feet and walking over and Wilbur rushed and shouted something and someone was crying - was that him?

He didn't know; didn't care. 

The meadow remained empty. The questions remained unanswered. Tubbo faded into his own mind once more, his moment of certainty gone.

_Dream, my soulmate is gone._

* * *

Tommy wasn't dead.

He knew that because he could feel warmth around him. He knew that because there was a softness under him and that he could feel himself breathing inwards and outwards.

How the fuck was he not dead?

He shot up, realization flooding through him. Almost immediately he realized that it was insanely hot - not _too_ hot, but hotter than a normal average room temperature should be, especially since it was nearing autumn. 

He was in a cave. Sort of. It was a cave, but it was carved out and had a floor made of different - were those blankets? - carpets, or blankets, or whatever they were. It was a mess of color, but the mess was an organized mess, and Tommy quite liked the look of it. There was a doorway, and Tommy frowned at the odd decoration that adorned it instead of an actual door. It was like a wash of red, orange, and yellow - were those feathers?

Phoenix feathers?

He looked at his wings, and saw them perfectly intact, and let out a small breath. Why did these people have door hangings made of phoenix feathers? Why were the carpets brightly woven tapestries? Why did they live in caves?

Where was he?

He got up, noticing that his wings weren't bound, nor were there any chains keeping him in place. He was in a bed, and there was a candle burning on the bedside table. A candle made of an odd black wax, sure, but a candle nonetheless.

He stepped towards the door, basking in the warm glow of the air. It made him feel more alive, almost, and he could have sworn that his dull feathers were glowing slightly. He put a foot on the ground - who had taken his shoes off? - and reached out a hand to touch the feathers. They were warm, and they were real - who the fuck had _phoenix feathers_ as door curtains? They were soft under his grip, and he swore they glowed brighter as he touched them. 

He pushed them aside, ducking slightly as he stepped under the doorframe. He stopped in his tracks.

No wonder it was so fucking hot.

Not a hundred feet away, a lava pool bubbled dangerously, spewing out black roiling clouds of substance and heating up the entire area. Glancing around, he saw other phoenix-feather doorways were lining the walls, some of them high up on the walls with only platforms and no staircases leading up to them. 

A whir of motion, and Tommy spun, his hands coming up - only to come face-to-face with a shorter black-haired man wearing blue, and bearing the bright red and yellow and orange feathers of a phoenix.

"Hi," the guys said, in an annoyingly high-pitched voice.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Skeppy," he said. "Who are you?"

"I'm Tommy."

Skeppy shrugged. "Eh, doesn't matter. I don't care."

"What the fuck?" Tommy said. 

Skeppy brushed him off. "The others want to see you. We haven't had a new phoenix for 'round about...well, twelve years ago. I didn't even know that other phoenixes existed outside of this place." He gestured around.

"Why the fuck do you live in hell?" Tommy demanded.

Skeppy frowned. "It's not hell, it's home," he chastised. "It's cold up above the ground." 

Tommy bit his tongue, attempting to not tell Skeppy it could be far colder, and instead going for his second question. "Why do you live down here?"

"Because the Fallen want to destroy our kind," Skeppy said, not batting an eye. "I'm surprised you survived this long, kid."

"I'm not a child!" he squeaked, his wings fluffing up indignantly. 

"Sure," Skeppy said, spreading his wings elegantly. "Come on, _child_. Follow me."

Tommy watched as Skeppy took off in a rush of air. "I can't fly!" he called up to the other phoenix, who shot back down.

"You can't fly?" Skeppy asked skeptically.

"Yeah," he muttered.

Suddenly he was yanked off his feet and he was flying above the lava pool. He shrieked and clung onto Skeppy's arm, able to feel the scalding heat of the liquid below. "I SWEAR TO FUCKING GOD YOU SON OF A FUCKING BITCH YOU BETTER NOT FUCKING DROP ME - "

Skeppy didn't drop him; instead flew upwards towards a small outcrop of the volcano wall that led to a large enclave. Inside, Tommy could see other people with the same bright phoenix wings that put even Tubbo to shame. 

Skeppy landed just as gracefully as he had taken off, and Tommy stumbled away, nearly throwing up over the corner. How the fuck could Skeppy fly so fast? 

"What the fuck?" he said loudly, hitting the side of his head loudly and refusing to throw up. He spun around, glaring at the black-haired man, who had a wide grin on his face. "What the fuck was that for?"

"Yeah, I'd agree on that one, Skeppy," a tall man said, walking over and bumping the shorter man's shoulder. The tall man, who had green eyes and brown hair and was taller than even _Wilbur_ , frowned at Tommy for a second before returning his attention to Skeppy. "There was no need to do that."

"Yes, there was," Skeppy huffed. 

"You couldn't have let him fly on his own?" a second man said, walking over to Skeppy and rolling his eyes. This man also had brown hair and green eyes and wore a black and red pair of robes. 

"He can't fly, Bad," Skeppy said.

Tommy froze, narrowing his eyes on the one that Skeppy had called Bad. _Bad?_ Like the one that Dream had mentioned? The phoenix that had gone missing a dozen years ago? He was here? "Bad?" he asked.

"What?" the man asked him.

"Uh...do you know someone named Dream?"

Bad's head shot up, his eyes widening. "How do you know that name?"

"Bad, he's literally the prince of the DreamSMP," Skeppy said warily. "King, now."

"Oh," Bad said. "He talked about me?"

"Yeah," Tommy said. "I knew him personally, a bit at least." He hesitated. "He said you were missing. They think you're dead."

Bad swallowed. "Oh. I - I didn't think they still remembered me."

"They did," Tommy said.

"No to ruin this awkward moment or anything," the tall man said. "But can we go back to the part where Skeppy said that you couldn't fly?"

Tommy felt shame running through him - and then anger, all at once. "Yeah? What of it, bitch?"

"Phoenixes are supposed to be good at flying."

"Well, too bad that I never learned to fly."

"You must have had shit parents."

"Phil is the greatest father one could possibly have," he hissed.

"Spifey, calm down," Bad groaned. "Wait, did you say Phil? Like King Philza?"

"Uh..." he trailed off. "Yeah."

"You're his son?"

"Yes," he said.

"And you _can't_ fly?" a girl behind Spifey said indignantly. 

He glared at her. "Yes. No. Wait. Shut the fuck up. I forgot you weren't there when I was kidnapped." He hesitated. "Oh, yeah, I was kidnapped. That's why I can't fly." It was easier to talk about here - where it's warm, where there was no way to feel cold. "By the Fallen, if you were wondering."

Skeppy stilled, his eyes going wide. Everything halted. _Everything_. There were about a dozen people in the cave - all dead silent. Bad was frozen, his mouth open, and the girl in the back looked shocked, a hand over her mouth.

Another girl speaks - this one has a deeper voice than the first girl, and also is far taller. "You - you were kidnapped by the Fallen?"

He nodded slowly, feeling slightly exposed at the edge of the cliff, facing everyone who was in the meeting area. "Eight years."

"Is that why your wings are dark?" Skeppy asked.

He shrugged. "Tubbo said it was because I died too much."

Bad's face lit up. "Tubbo? He was four when I escaped here! How's he doing?"

"He's my soulmate."

" _WHAT_?" Bad yelped, and Tommy noticed with a small frown Bad and Skeppy give each other a look. 

"Yeah..." he said slowly, holding up the golden bee - and then glanced back at it. "Wait! It's grey, _why is it grey_ \- "

"Relax," the second girl snorted. "There's ancient magic blocking all magic coming in or out, including your little soulmate bond." She waved her hand in Tommy's direction. "Tubbo is fine."

Well, he doubted that. Last he'd seen him, he'd been taken by the Fallen.

Bad groaned. "I need to sit down," he muttered. "So, you're telling me that you're a prince of the Antarctic Empire, you were kidnapped eight years ago, and Tubbo is your soulmate?"

"Yes," he said. "So what?"

"Phoenix Soulmates are very rare," Bad said slowly, walking forward towards Tommy - not like a cat and mouse, but more like someone approaching a wounded predator ready to bolt. He held out his own wrist for Tommy to see, and he felt surprise light through him when he saw the small shape of a duck on the man's wrist, glowing a healthy golden as his had once done. In the corner of his vision, he saw Skeppy raise his wrist as well, a small halo shining on his wrist, and a heartfelt smile on his face. 

"Bonds are only formed in a phoenix's darkest hour," Bad continued, his own smile on his face brighter than the glowing bond on his wrist. "And the other phoenix can accept it innately."

"T-L-D-R," Skeppy said, wiggling his fingers. "Trauma makes the best of friends." He threw his arm around Bad, who rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"Skeppy!"

* * *

There were nine of them - not including him. Nine phoenixes.

There was Skeppy and Bad - the inseparable duo, he learned. Skeppy had rescued Bad and then they'd found their way here, and ever since Bad had been terrified to leave. 

There was Zelk, who was an odd character and made dumb jokes and corrected his grammar every fifteen seconds. Sheesh, he would not have liked Tubbo's inability to read. 

There was Mega, who was mute from an attack when he was younger and had fallen down here. He was a bit older than Tommy - seventeen, and Tommy got Technoblade vibes from him in a scary sort of way. 

There was Spifey, the taller-than-Wilbur guy, who had the capacity of one brain cell and was constantly eating food he wasn't supposed to, including an odd mixture of various foods that Tommy felt sick looking at the combination of. Also, he was wearing a beaver onesie, so he didn't know if he could take the man seriously. 

There was a guy named Vurb that would consistently tease Skeppy and Bad about their friendship; though it was all in good fun - he'd seen Sapnap do it between George and Dream plenty of times. The man seemed to have an obsession with toes or some shit that he really didn't want to understand. 

There was a girl named Finn - or Rose, he wasn't really sure; because Vurb called her Rose and Skeppy called her Finn and he wasn't sure if she was a girl or a boy - she said she used any pronouns when he asked, but he mainly used she because she was wearing a dress and four-inch heels and had long hair and would constantly complain about her feathers not being in the right position. 

There was another girl named Astelic, and she seemed a lot like Tubbo - sweet and quiet-ish, except when provoked, and then her feathers would puff up and she would turn into a ball of silent fury that Tommy would quickly move away from.

There was a boy named Harvey who painted apples green and orange with food-dye, and he didn't really understand that either - but everyone down here was odd, and he'd sort of learned that that was a recurring theme among the phoenixes who lived down here. 

And then there was him.

Finn tapped her fingernails against the table that they were currently sat on, the only light the soft glow of the phoenix's wings and a single candle int he center - but the wings provided plenty of light, except in Tommy's area, which was dark, because his wings barely shed any light at all. He felt slightly embarrassed by that fact, but he couldn't really help it, so when Harvey handed him a candle he melted like the wick was and sat in his chair, his wings curled around him.

"So," Bad said when they were all finally seated and everyone was quiet. "I'm sure you know why we're here today." 

"No need to act so serious, Bad," Skeppy snorted, nodding in Tommy's direction. "We can become double digits now."

"I'm not staying here," Tommy scoffed.

There was a lapse in the clapping that Skeppy had started up.

"What?" Zelk asked.

He shook his head. "I'm not staying. I can't. My family is in danger. They took over the capital of the Antarctic Empire. My soulmate is still out there, recaptured by the Fallen."

"What do you mean, recaptured?" Astelic asked.

"That's how I met him," he said, a bit numbly. "He was captured by the Fallen, and we escaped together."

"Oh," Astelic said.

"But it's dangerous up there," Bad protested.

"Doesn't matter," he said, his lips curling. "I'm not a coward. I'm not running because I might die. I've already died a hundred times. Maybe a thousand." He spread his wings slightly for emphasis, and noted with absolutely no pleasure that everyone's' gazes went directly to the darkness. "I'm not afraid of death. Or perma-death. I want to rescue my family."

There was a bit of silence.

"Are you calling us cowards?" Zelk said amicably.

He opened his mouth to respond - _no, of course not_ \- then snapped his mouth shut as he _really_ thought about it. 

Yes, they were cowards. He understood why they were cowards - they were phoenixes, and they had been run into hiding by the Fallen. Hell, he hadn't even known that other phoenixes existed.

"Yes, I fucking do," he said bluntly. "I think your reasoning is sound, but I also think that you are being too careful, too cautious."

"They are hunting us down into extinction for our feathers," Bad pointed out.

"Oh, I'm aware," Tommy said with a cold shiver despite the warmth. He was sure that without the blistering heat he would have been reduced to a crying ball of flashbacks and tears. He was glad that it was maddeningly hot, even if his shirt was sticking to his back and he had sweat running down his temple. "I'm aware more than you, actually, because they ripped out my age feathers." Bad looked sickened by this revelation. "But I don't care. I'm not staying here, _hiding_. I have a family that needs rescuing. I have people that need my help."

"You're one kid," Spifey said. "What can you do against an army of Fallen?"

"I can try my damndest," he said.

"Language," Bad muttered, and that aspect of his personality was really grating on Tommy's nerves.

"I can try my damndest, and if I fail, at least I will have died knowing I tried," he continued. "Tubbo rescued me from that outpost. It's only fair I return the favor to him and Dream."

"Heroic," Harvey agreed. "But stupid. Very, very stupid."

"Phoenixes are rare," Zelk said cautiously. "You want to throw that away?"

"Throw what away?" he snorted. "What _is_ being a phoenix?" He paused for a moment. "I don't know. I don't know, Tubbo doesn't know, Dream barely knows - it's all a guessing game to us, because guess what - the rest of the phoenixes were underground, playing hide and seek with themselves."

"Fair enough," Vurb muttered.

"Yeah," he said, rather loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. " _Fair enough_ . You say you are protecting our kind by remaining hidden - but phoenixes are supposed to the best warriors in the world because of their inability to die properly." He glared at the nine faces around the table. "So, tell me - is letting me rot in a cell protecting _our kind_ ? Is letting two now-sixteen-year-olds retain PTSD _protecting our kind_?"

"No," Astelic said weakly. "It's not."

"It's not," he agreed. "It's fucking not."

"Language."

"So either I leave and go on a suicide mission to rescue my family," he said. "Or you come with me. And we show those bastards that we will not cower from them. That we are _not_ afraid of them." 

He was afraid of them. He was so afraid of them it hurt. But he couldn't show that, not now - not when there was an actual chance of freeing his family.

"There are so many of them," Finn said.

"And there are ten of us," he said. "And we are phoenixes, aptly named - are we not?"

"We are," Skeppy said. "And I agree with you. I'm sick of cowering in this cave."

"Skeppy - " Bad started.

"No, Bad," Skeppy said. "As much as the child makes rash decisions, he's right. We've been here far too long. And we can't keep hiding - because more phoenixes will be born from bloodlines like his - and I am allowing what happened to you and Tommy and Tubbo to happen to other children as well."

"I am not a child," he said.

"You were," Skeppy said. "You were a child. And you should be one now. You're not - but you should be." 

He doesn't know what that means. 

"We're going to die," Finn warned.

"At least it will be in a burst of fire and ash," Skeppy said. "At least we will die fighting and not down here." He turned to Bad, placing his hand on top of the others. "I want to see the sky again, Bad. I want to taste the rain and see the trees before I die. I've been begging you that we shouldn't be here. And now the opportunity has come to take out the Fallen - we have to."

"To protect the future generations," Zelk agreed.

"I don't know..." Bad muttered.

"All in favor of following Tommy's plan to take out the Fallen and take back the Antarctic Empire?" Skeppy voiced loudly.

Mega was the first to raise his hand. Then Zelk, and Harvey - and then Vurb and Finn, a bit more cautiously. Spifey was the last to raise his hand, hesitancy on his face.

Astelic and Bad did not, the girl shaking her head slowly. 

"Majority," Skeppy said. "Motion passed."

"I will follow you," Bad said. "I do not fully agree with this foolish way to die."

"You want to protect too much," Skeppy said gently. "Sometimes...there is an opportunity to attack, and you take it."

"Okay," Bad said. "Okay."

Tommy leaped up. "Great! When do we leave?"

Skeppy rolled his eyes. "Sit back down. We're not leaving for at least a month."

"WHAT?" he shouted. 

Zelk snorted. "Yeah, okay buddy, you can't even fly. And that's an issue. If we're going to fight a so-called army of Fallen, you need to learn how to fly. And fight with a sword. And use your phoenix abilities." 

"But my family - "

"If they're not dead by now, they can wait a month," Skeppy said. "You've been out for a week. If they were going to kill them, it would already be too late."

Tommy had to admit Skeppy had a point.

* * *

"Phoenixes can use fire magic," Bad said, and Tommy really wanted to smash his face into the pillow from boredom. Bad had been teaching him how to _not_ kill himself with the fire, instead of showing him how to blow up stuff! "In immensely powerful situations, our wings can alight as well; usable as an extra weapon in combat. Tommy, are you paying attention?"

"Uh-huh," he muttered. "Weapons, wings, flame, blah blah blah. Can I light things on fire now?"

Bad sighed. "Sure." He pointed at the candle on the table. "Light that."

Tommy stared at it.

_Light it on fire light it on fire light it on fire -_

"No, don't look at it like _that_ ," Bad scolded, hitting him up top the head. "Like _that_."

"Hey!" he said, rubbing his head.

"Look!" Bad said, pointing back at the candle. Tommy turned and looked - _really_ looked. He could have sworn that he felt something resonate from within himself, but he ignored it as he focused on summoning the flame to light the candle. Wait - _there_ -

The entire thing went up in flames. Tommy stared in amusement at the pile of ash now on the table. 

"Yeah," Bad said with a sigh. "You definitely need some practice." 

"What?" he protested. "I lit it on fire!"

"You _blew_ it up," Bad corrected.

"It works."

Bad shook his head. "It doesn't actually, Tommy." He held up a hand when Tommy opened his mouth indignantly. "If a Fallen was fighting, say your older brother - Techno, I think - "

"Techno would beat the fucking shit outta him," Tommy said proudly.

"Language, you muffin head!" Bad said. Tommy rolled his eyes. " _Fine_ , Tubbo then. What would you do?"

"Well, Dream would beat the shit outta him, then."

"LANGUAGE!" Bad said, looking scandalized. Tommy felt a smirk poking at his lips. "Okay, fine, say that Dream and Techno - actually, nobody is around but you and Tubbo and your soulmate needed help."

"Well, then _I_ would beat the shit outta him."

"Stop swearing!"

"Make me, bitch."

"TOMMY!" Bad shouted. Tommy rolled his eyes again, flopping down onto the bed he'd been sitting on. "STOP IT!"

"Fine," he muttered. _Not_.

"Okay, say that you didn't have a weapon and you couldn't get to Tubbo fast enough to save him and you had to use your magic."

"Well, then I would turn him to dust," Tommy said.

Bad's face lights up. "Ah! Except you can't! Because he has valuable information your family needs to rescue other phoenixes!"

"Um..." Tommy said, confused. 

"You'd melt his weapon," Bad said, rolling his eyes. "That way he couldn't hurt Tubbo."

"Yeah, sure," Tommy said sarcastically.

"My _point_ stands," Bad continued, ignoring Tommy's words. "You clearly don't have enough control to focus your magic onto one individual object." Bad plucked a feather from his wings, and Tommy winced. "Don't worry, it's overgrown a bit anyway."

Well, that hadn't been why he had winced, but close enough.

Bad held up his hand and Tommy watched as a small circle of fire appeared in the center of the feather, slowly burning outwards. "You, Tommy, need to learn _control_."

Tommy started to hate Bad. Especially after the brown-haired man made him sit with a stack of candles trying to light them on fire. It took him four hours to light one without burning them to a fine ash, and while Bad congratulated him - they quickly moved on to a new challenge. Which was to summon the same small ball of flame in his hand. Without the candle.

Tommy didn't understand it - there was nothing to burn, how could it be on fire? Bad tried to explain to him that it was simply magic, and nothing was burning, but eventually got annoyed by Tommy's onslaught of questions and told him to just summon the flame above his finger.

Tommy ended up lighting his hand on fire. It didn't hurt, because he was immune to his own phoenix fire, but it tickled and he didn't know how to put it out. Bad eventually dumped water on his hand. 

So he left the house soot-covered and pissed off an angry to go meet Finn, who was supposed to teach him about phoenix culture or some shit like that.

"You look _awful_ ," Finn snorted, and Tommy flipped her off as he shook the soot out of his hair. "Bad's a nice guy, but I would hate to learn how to summon phoenix fire under him."

"What? Why?" he asked skeptically. 

"Because he's so happy and positive that he just squeezes the life out of you," Finn said darkly, and Tommy really didn't want to ask. "Anyway, I've been here the longest, so I suppose I have the _civic_ duty of teaching out about our culture."

"Why you have phoenix feathers as doors?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as they began walking between the houses. 

"Well, yes," Finn said, tilting her head and going to the nearest one. "These are age feathers, you know. Once you outgrow them you're supposed to pluck them. Happens every six months or so - you get around ten every time. In the books, they were used to make elaborate decorations, but I tried my best to recreate it with what materials we have." He eyed Tommy. "These are Astelic's age feathers. Females have narrower feathers than males do." Tommy tilted his head, trying to see it as he raised a wing and compared it to his own feathers. Astelic's strings of feathers only went halfway to the floor. "She's been here thirteen years, but didn't have wings for nine of those years, so these are her age feathers from age eight to seventeen." Finn turned and pointed across the way, to another house. "That's Zelk's. He's been here for sixteen years, since he was five. 'Course, he only had age feathers for thirteen years, so his is a bit longer than Astelic's." 

"Wilbur burned all my age feathers," Tommy said conversationally.

"He _what_?" Finn said.

"Wilbur," Tommy said, glancing over at Finn and seeing an outraged expression on her face. "My older brother. When he took out the outpost where Tubbo and I had been taken, he burned my feathers."

"That's - " Finn sputtered. "That's _blasphemous_." 

Tommy shook his head. "Those feathers were ripped from me. Bitches fucking needed them for whatever black magic they were doing."

Finn's face turned white. "Ah. I see."

"I don't miss them," Tommy said resolutely. "Maybe what they could have been." He reached a hand out and ran a hand through the beaded door curtains. "Didn't know they meant so much to the Phoenix community."

"What you did was right," Finn said, surprising Tommy. "Age feathers are meant to be pulled out when they're ready. I'm guessing it hurt - which means you weren't ready. They're supposed to signify growth of being in oneself amongst family. Around here, we don't really have access to our families, so when someone starts losing their age feathers, we usually have one person pull one out when it's time. It's a show of friendship, of comfort."

"Yeah, it just fucking hurt," Tommy admitted.

"They only mean something when one gives them meaning," Finn said, bumping his shoulder slightly. "And they're only given meaning around other phoenixes." Tommy didn't understand a single word she was saying, but he didn't mention that. 

He learned some of the basics from Finn - like wing-care, which he had partially learned from Phil; and some of the history, which got _really_ boring, though he thought Techno might have liked it - before Spifey came to get him.

"I'm supposed to teach you to fly," Spifey said.

Tommy raised an eyebrow, standing up away from Finn. "You're the best option?"

"No," Spifey said. "I'm not the best flier around here. That'd be Mega. But he can't talk - and besides, I learned to fly when I was twelve; the oldest. The rest of the people here either knew how to fly before or learned to fly down here when they were younger."

Tommy ignored Finn's cheerful wave as they walked up steps that he hadn't seen before, up the side of the wall, and to a small outcrop of rock. "Why couldn't you fly?"

Spifey paused as he surveyed the flying zone, his eyes scanning the mass of rocks, stalactites, stalagmites, and lava on the inside of the volcano. "Not the same reason as you. You were kidnapped and held in a cage." Tommy frowned; he hadn't told anybody about that. Then he realized that these were phoenixes - those empty cages beside him had been meant for more of his kind. Why wouldn't they know about the places that he had been taken to? "I have anxiety. I used to pick at my wings. Plucked out all my flight feathers." 

Tommy winced; that sounded painful. 

Spifey shook his head. "I don't do that anymore. But I know that the blocks on older people are different than those of a younger child."

Tommy smiled wryly. "Don't worry, I already know how to glide."

Spifey looked surprised. "Really?"

He nodded, walking to the edge. "Phil had me stand in a windy place for periods of time to strengthen my wings, but my family is pretty overprotective, and Dream got tired of it - yeah, _that_ Dream - and pushed me off the edge."

"And he expected you to fly," Spifey said, dumbfounded.

"Glide," Tommy corrected. "And I did. Perfectly. And then I jumped off myself a few more times."

Spifey shook his head. "Look, I know Dream is a king and all that, but he makes _really_ stupid decisions sometimes." He rubbed his face. "At least you're not afraid of heights. Gliding is a lot like flying." Spifey grabbed Tommy's shoulders and pushed him nearer to the edge. "Spread your wings. No, not like _that_ \- like this." Spifey demonstrated for him. "Then I want you to bend them like this - yeah, like that! Forward, and backward. Like a hummingbird."

"I've never seen a hummingbird." 

Spifey stared at him. "Ah. I see. Well, nevermind then. Push your wings back and forth - that's what you're going to do in the air, but horizontal instead of vertical. Your wings will push down on the wind, pushing you up into the air. It's basic science."

"All I heard was a load of boring science nerd shit," Tommy grumbled. "Can I fly now?"

Spifey tilted his head. "Sure. Go on."

"Really?" Tommy said, surprised.

"Yeah, go right ahead."

Tommy nodded, and then pitched headfirst off the cliff, falling into the same gliding position he had before. This time, his goal was to go up. He tried to do the same muscle motions that Spifey had mentioned earlier, and was suddenly glad Phil had made him stand on that castle wall with the wind blowing into his wings - because _holy fucking shit_ , his wings screamed in pain as he flapped them once. It _did_ keep him steady, instead of gliding downwards, but he couldn't do it more than three times before his wings were shrieking in agony and he basically crashed into the rocky ground, rolling to a halt.

Spifey landed beside him, a smirk on his face. "Have a nice flight?"

Tommy winced, rolling his back to feel the soreness. "What the fuck, man? That fucking hurt!"

"You're the one that wanted to jump right into it," Spifey reminded him. "You've never flown before - only glided. Which is better than I thought. At least we don't have to build up your muscles from scratch. Even so, you have to lift your body weight higher into the hair by pushing down into the wind. That's why birds - "

"Have hollow bones, I know," Tommy grumbled, picking himself up and brushing off the rocks and pebbles.

Spifey paused from his rant. "How did you know that?"

"A friend told me," Tommy said, after a moment, pushing away the image of Tubbo's smiling face that popped into his head.

"Ah. A friend."

"Yes." 

"Of course, of course. Anyway, since we avariel have denser bones, it far harder to lift ourselves off the ground. You need strong wings."

"I can see that, bitch."

"So," Spifey continued, as if Tommy hadn't just called him the equivalent of a female dog. "You're going to practice."

"How could I practice that?" he sputtered. 

"Well, I was thinking we could tie heavy rocks to your wings - " Spifey started.

Tommy blanched, collapsing to his knees suddenly, the air feeling colder. There was a lava pool, why was it getting colder - the images of ropes tied around his wings popped into his head, and he gasped shakily. "No," he managed, dry heaving onto the ground.

_Cold. So cold -_

"No, don't do that," he said. "Please don't do that, no ropes - "

"Okay, okay," Spifey said, bending down next to him. "No ropes, got it." The taller man hesitated. "You good, Tommy?"

"Yep," he choked out, feeling the bile rise in his throat. "Yep, perfectly fine."

Spifey looked a lot like Wilbur, then. Tall, brown hair, pretty eyes. Tommy wished his brother was actually here, so that he could feel better. Tommy wished a lot of things. None of them were possible right now.

* * *

The end result was just a ton of flying. Or attempting, anyway. It ended badly every time. Spifey never mentioned the rope incident to anyone within Tommy's hearing distance, but he was sure that everyone knew.

During the day he would train under Bad and Spifey and occasionally Finn - and then Skeppy was added to the mixture halfway through the first week. Tommy couldn't believe he'd have to train under the prankster - especially for _sword fighting_ \- but Skeppy turned out to be good; very good, in fact. He wasn't a Dream or Technoblade, but he was better than Wilbur, and maybe as good as Phil. Tommy respected him for that - internally. Externally, he wiped the dust off and attacked Skeppy with the wooden practice sword over and over until he nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

But he got better. He could finally fly up to the meeting room on his own, though he couldn't do it twice. He could hold his own against Skeppy for a minute or two. He could light a fire in the center of his palm and then direct it - sometimes. He talked with Finn about the history, and ate lunch with everyone at the edge of the cliff where he was learning to fly. Mega reminded him a lot of Techno - always glared at people, and was silent and deadly, and would often write swear words on his talking board. Zelk was cringey, but funny, and talked a lot about wanting to write poems. They weren't _that_ bad, Tommy had to admit.

Skeppy and Bad were disgustingly sweet to each other, in a platonic way. Vurb made many jokes about them, and Zelk and Harvey often followed suit - but that's all they were; jokes. 

Yet at night he lay awake, unable to sleep. When he dreamt, it was never of that meadow that he shared with Tubbo. It was always nightmares; always scryings of his soulmate. Brief flashings.

He talked to Finn about it, and Finn said it was a rare ability to have - nothing was much known about it. Unhelpful, but sadly Tommy couldn't do much about that. 

Sometimes he stared up at the ceiling and wondered if the sky was as blue as he remembered. Somewhere in his mind, the sky was there - in his memories. He knew his family was alive. He saw it in his dreams. That always made him feel better. 

What didn't make him feel better was the blood and the tears in it. What didn't make him feel better was Tubbo's dejected stare and Techno's murderous one and Phil always looking sad and Wilbur crying. What didn't make him feel better was knowing that he couldn't go _right_ at that moment to help his family.

He knew the other phoenixes were right. That he needed the training to fly out of here.

So he worked until he collapsed from exhaustion into bed. He worked until his dreams were blank because he was so tired and couldn't remember them in the morning except for brief flashes. He trained until his wings hurt and he had to take a few days' break with explicit words from Spifey about not hurting them permanently. 

He worked until Skeppy told him that he could have a sword.

He blanched when he saw the netherite. 

He had a panic attack when he saw the dark metal. He had flashbacks of what that horrible tool had done to him. He had to be reminded by Finn, who showed him Bad's scars, that netherite was originally created by phoenixes, and that the metal would bend to the will of the phoenix.

He was amazed when Skeppy and Harvey had a fake duel - two netherite swords on flame and wings on fire, flying through the air. He was amazed and he was finally able to put a hand on the metal two days later to feel its weight and learn to use it.

There was a week before they left that Tommy woke up with his wings on fire for the second time in his life. There was a week when Bad showed him a mirror and Tommy was able to see the brightness of his feathers - showing that he had healed. 

There was a week left when Tommy added the nine other phoenixes to his personal flock, if not in reality, in mind. 

There were two days left when Tommy was able to fly around the hollow volcano twenty-seven times before feeling tired. There were two days when he was able to duel Skeppy and integrate some of Techno's moves into the battle and beat the shorter man for the first time since he was there. There were two days left when Tommy learned how to channel his phoenix fire into the netherite and light it ablaze.

There was a day left when he Zelk told him that his age feathers were growing out, and would within the next fortnight.

There was an hour left where he stood with the other phoenixes and told them about the water, the sky, and what the above-ground was like. They all wore coats - it was far warmer here than it was above there, despite it being dark. There was an hour left when they rubbed soot into their wings and put on their armor and gathered their swords.

There was no time at all as Spifey smiled at him, and Tommy stared upwards towards the small circle of blue sky that led to aboveground. There was no time at all as he shifted his wings and took off.

There was no time at all as the nine others followed him into the mouth of the volcano, bursting through the channel into the clean breathable air for the first time in a month.

There was happiness in the air when he saw the other phoenixes; overjoyed at the midday sun and the grass and the trees and the small animals that bounded across the mountainside. 

There was joy when he looked down at the bee that had remained silent on his wrist and saw it flutter to life. Tubbo was alive. 

There was sadness in himself when he told them that they had to leave behind the volcano and head to his home.

* * *

He could see dozens of other Fallen circling the air around the walls of the Antarctic Empire. It made his heart sink that the village squares lay empty, and that the market was barren and dry. His wings hurt a bit from the far flight, but he put that aside - he knew he could make it. He _would_ make it. His flock blended right in - black wings; netherite blades. It made him angry that they had taken the swords of _his_ people and made it their own - made him afraid of something that he had so much control over. 

They circled around the castle, drawing closer and closer. Nobody bothered them - it was almost _easy_. Almost pitiful. 

He could see movement through the stained glass windows of the dining hall. His soulmate bond burst to shining life, tugging him in that direction. 

"There," he called to Spifey and Skeppy, who were on his left and rights. They turned and directed the flock towards the dining hall. "Wait - let me go through first."

"Why?" Skeppy asked, furrowing his eyebrows as they halted in midair.

Tommy felt a wide grin bloom on his face. "Well, one must have a dramatic entrance, huh?"

"Go for it," Harvey said. "I respect that."

Tommy drew his blade. He nodded at Spifey, whose soot-covered wings began to burn away to reveal the bright plumage below. 

Tommy flew right at the stained glass, at the last minute hitting it feet first. It shattered around him, and he felt his soulmate bond burn painfully as he drew closer to his soulmate, and he landed amidst the shards in a roll, coming to his feet as the glass rained around him; shining rainbows around the room. 

He could feel his wings burn with fire, and he raised his sword, which was ablaze with fire as well, sending a nice toasty warmth down him. Despite the many Fallen that were in the room, it wasn't cold at all. 

"I'm back," he said with a wide grin, his eyes zeroing in on the people that knelt with their wings chained and their hands tied behind their backs. "Miss me?"

They were looking at him. Techno, Phil, Dream, Wilbur, Sapnap, George, _Tubbo_ , who had tears running down his face as Tommy raised his sword higher and feeling the delight at the fear that shone on the faces of the many Fallen that existed in the room. There were gags in the mouths of his family, but Tommy really hoped they were happy to see him. 

"Come on, it's only one kid," one of the Fallen said.

If it were even possible, Tommy felt his grin widen any further, and he tightened his grip on the dark metal hilt of his sword. "Try us, bitch."

And all around the dining hall, the glass of every window shattered. 

* * *

He couldn't breathe - because Tommy was here, Tommy was alive, and Tommy had the bright-colored wings and holy gods were they on _fire_? He seemed perfectly fine though, and he raised his sword higher - Tubbo felt a bit of hope resonate within him.

It quickly dropped. Tommy was one kid, one person, and despite being an amazing person - who was he trying to fight the nearly two-dozen Fallen in the room?

"Try us, bitch."

Oh, that was Tommy's voice alright.

Tubbo didn't have time to think about that, though, because there was a loud shattering of glass, and then there was fire everywhere as about nine more avariels with fire-wings burst into the dining hall, bearing fire-swords as well - were those phoenixes.

It quickly turned into a battle. Tubbo squeezed his eyes shut and leaned into Dream, who was the closest, trying to drown out the sound of ringing swords. There was a hand on him, and it wasn't Dream's, and he gasped, looking over his shoulder - but it was only a brown-haired guy with green eyes - a phoenix most definitely. He untied the ropes around Tubbo's wings and arms deftly, and then Tubbo was able to yank the gag from his mouth.

"What the hell is going on?" he croaked out as the phoenix moved to Dream.

"You're Tommy's soulmate, I take it?"

Tubbo glanced down at his wrist, where the music disc glowed golden for the first time in weeks. "Yes."

"Nice to meet you, Tubbo," the man said. "I'm Bad."

"BAD?" Dream shouted, yanking the gag out of his mouth.

Bad cringed. "Nice to see you, Dream. Gotta go!" He tossed Dream a netherite sword, which made Tubbo back away as Dream fumbled it, staring after Bad.

"Fucking idiot," Dream muttered, moving over to Techno and cutting him loose with a single slice of the blade. Techno gave a single nod before diving for the nearest sword and launching himself into battle - Tubbo couldn't help but notice in Tommy's direction. 

A tingly feeling ran through his body, and Tubbo frowned as a man rushed him. Before Dream could step in his path, Tubbo held out a hand - and the man turned to crumbly ash. He gasped, stumbling backward and staring at his own hands.

"Good job, Big Man!" Tommy said, suddenly at his side and knocking shoulders with him. "But I still have a higher score than you!"

For the first time in a month, a grin formed on Tubbo's face.

* * *

"Come on," Tommy groaned, trying to push away Wilbur, who was basically suffocating with how hard he was hugging him. "You can't possibly have thought I was dead again?" There were wet marks on his shirt from tears - especially Wilbur and Phil, because Tubbo hadn't been tall enough to reach his shoulder and Techno had shed a few tears when he'd thought Tommy was looking the opposite way. 

Tubbo tugged on his arm, from where his grip was - he wouldn't let go, and Tommy didn't have the heart to tell him to let go. "Tommy, our soulmate bond went out."

"Suppressed," Finn said, popping up from nowhere. "It was suppressed."

"Who are you?" Techno demanded. 

Finn lost some of her grin. "I'm Finn. Or Rose, I don't mind. I'm the phoenix historian."

"I didn't even know there were other phoenixes," Phil said, finally nudging Wilbur out of the way and hugging Tommy tightly, who pretended to make gagging motions. In reality, he appreciated the warmth that his family was producing now that his wings and sword had burnt out. 

"There are eleven of us total," Finn said seriously. "I thought there were nine, but then Tommy and Tubbo popped up. And Tommy somehow convinced us to stop hiding and fight the Fallen." She turned and spun, pointing at the ash and bodies in the hall. "And it seemed to have worked out."

"Thank you," Phil said. "Thank you for taking care of Tommy."

"Oh, it wasn't just me," Finn said, looking unsure. "I just taught him about phoenix culture - or as much as I knew, anyway. Spifey taught him to fly." Phil looked pained by that. "Skeppy taught him to fight." Techno winced. "Bad taught him magic."

"Don't worry," Skeppy interjected, skipping over, Bad at his heels, looking at everyone but Dream, Sapnap, and George. "He's awful at it. You're Technoblade, right?"

"Yes."

"Great, he's in your hands now," Skeppy said. Tommy was honestly annoyed by the relief in his voice. "That child is so annoying to teach." There was a bit of fondness in him that wasn't lost to Tommy, but he flipped the shorter man off anyway.

"And...you are?" Phil asked.

"I'm Skeppy," Skeppy said. "This is my soulmate, Bad." Bad still didn't look up, kicking at some of the rubble under his feet.

"Bad?" Dream said.

"Yes?" Bad squeaked in a small voice.

"Is it really you?"

"...yeah."

Tommy blinked, and suddenly Dream and Bad were hugging, and there were tears pouring down the maskless-man's face.

"I missed you."

Bad blinked. 

"Missed you too, Dream," he breathed back.

Tommy grinned, and the grip on his wrist tightened. He glanced to his left, over at Tubbo, who was smiling at him brightly.

"Your wings are healed, Tommy."

He smiled as he watched Skeppy push Dream away, and then Vurb pop up to talk about jealousy. "I know."

_Maybe everything will be better._

* * *

And everything got better. 

Phil taught Tommy how to fly - properly, and with fancy wing movements. Techno beat Skeppy and then proceeded to chase after Tommy with the wooden sword and smack him when he didn't defend himself. Tubbo sat in the fields with him - dreamscape and reality - and they talked and talked.

There were the bad days. There were the days when he didn't want to fly; didn't want to do anything but huddle by the fire with his family. There were the days that he had flashbacks and he awoke to Tubbo or someone from his immediate family - holding his hand. There were the days that Tubbo told Tommy with shaky breaths and tears what happened in the horrible month that he had thought that Tommy was dead. There were the days that Wilbur would come in because he didn't want to see Tommy gone and hug him in the bed because he didn't want to let go. There were the days that Techno lashed out at people.

There was the day that his age feathers grew out and everyone there picked one. There was the day that Finn and the rest flew back to get their stuff from the volcano, and moved into a small area underground of the castle, complete with a furnace. There was the day that Dream and Phil made a deal to merge the DreamSMP and the Antarctic Empire. There was the day that they decided that one castle was big enough for all of them.

There was the day that Tommy walked in to Finn teaching Tubbo about phoenixes, and he smiled as he watched Tubbo listen to the history and the culture conversation far better than he ever had. There was the day that Tommy walked in to Skeppy comforting a crying Bad, and backed out quickly. 

But they were there. And they would get through this - together. There were the bad days, and there were the good days. There was the day that Phil finally acknowledged that Tommy could finally fly. There was the day that Tommy beat Dream in a fight while Techno watched proudly from the sidelines. 

They all had different pasts - different horror stories, different ideas of their future.

But they would get through it - together.

Together, as one flock - one family.

And sure, maybe he would die and be **reborn** one day - as phoenixes did, when they burned too bright. Maybe he had to **relive** his past experiences at night. Maybe he dreamed of the **repeat** of his kidnapping.

Reborn.

Relive.

Repeat. 

**Resolve.**

**Revitalize.**

**Rise.**


End file.
